


this is life on earth

by KaelsMiscellany



Series: absolve your blood stained honor [3]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Banter, Cats, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grief, Jason Cass & Damian integrating into the family goes about as well as can be expected, batfamily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-07-29 17:18:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16268798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaelsMiscellany/pseuds/KaelsMiscellany
Summary: This is not how Damian expected to come to Gotham, to mourn the father he never knew. It certainly wasn't how he'd planned to meet the rest of his so-called 'family'. He was supposed to become the true heir, become Robin, become Batman.Yet without Batman, what use is there for a Robin?





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and I'm back again y'all. Better buckle up because this damn thing's a monster of a fic...
> 
> Title comes from "Life on Earth" by Snow Patrol.

Almost two days, 40 hours of straight driving Cass’ been doing and Jason’s sure it’s not good for her, but she’s done it anyways. Perhaps afraid if she stops driving they won’t get any further east than they have.

Jason doesn’t know if he’s glad or angry anymore that he let himself be dragged along. It’s happened and he’s just a mess emotion-wise. Proving she’s the far better person Cass’ been very understanding—granted she’s been going through the same thing, if writ far larger than his own emotional turmoil. Damian meanwhile’s been almost silent the whole time, seeming more intent on keeping track of the kittens than things like eating and sleeping.

If Jason weren’t so wrapped up in himself at the moment he’d be worried about that, however as it stands Jason gets a nice heaping pile of guilt every time he watches Cass step up to take care of it. She shouldn’t have to in her state but Jason just...can’t.  

Even through his turmoil something in him skips a beat when he sees the ‘Welcome to Gotham County’ sign, they’re close. So close.

It might not be the first time he’s been back in Gotham since his resurrection, but that doesn’t mean he’s not caught up in some strange form of excitement. Gotham wouldn’t have changed since then but it was still Gotham, still his home. Not even anger and grief can change that.

Barely an hour later Gotham comes into view, shining with bloody brightness from the setting sun. A fitting welcome Jason thinks.

Unexpectedly Cass doesn’t drive north towards the Manor, but further east until they’re somewhere in the Fashion District. “Where’re we going?” Damian frowns at the city around them, seeming to survey it and find that it’s not at all what he expected. Gotham wasn’t all gloom and thunder, it had its sunshine and blue skies too.

“Shopping,” Cass answers as she looks for parking. “We don’t have the right clothes for tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. Batman’s memorial is tomorrow. Tomorrow, and how were they going to be able to do this?

Cass finds a spot and it’s clear she has a destination already in mind from the way she walks.

“What about the kittens?” If Jason were in his right frame of mind he’d probably smile at that.

“If we take more than an hour you can go back and check on them,” her tone is patient. “Come on, we’re cutting it close as it is.”

Coventry Tailors is the name of the shop she pulls them into. Something at it tugs at Jason’s memory, but he can’t quite place it. Not until a man steps out from behind the counter and smiles broadly. “Miss Wayne, it’s been some time since we’ve last seen you.”

Jason’s been here before too, GA uniform fittings and Alfred’s very pointed insistence that, even with puberty around the corner, Jason should own a good suit. He doubts the people here will recognize him on the other hand.

Discomfort ripples through Cass, and Jason finds himself reacting to it. Stepping towards her and resting a hand at the small of her back, just a reminder. Her lips twitch in a smile. “It’s good to see you too Marcus.” She steps away from Jason and she and Marcus bisoux. “I’m sorry for such the late and short notice, but we need something for tomorrow.”

“Ah.” It seems she doesn’t need to expand on it more than that. Granted Gotham’s appeared more subdued Jason’s managed to notice. He’s pretty sure he’d even seen some people with black armbands with little yellow bats. A whole city in mourning for its hero. “Well, you Waynes are known for asking the impossible and getting it,” Marcus’ smile is wan. “I do however think two complete suits are beyond our capacity, dare I suggest picking something off the rack and getting it fitted?” He eyes Jason and Damian. “As for a dress, that I _could_ do in twelve hours.”

Cass smiles. “That will be fine,” it’s strange to see her as a Wayne instead of herself. Although he can tell she’s borrowing from Bruce’s own persona.

“Than this way Miss Wayne.” He gestures towards the back. “If you sirs would like help I can call Hannah to provide assistance.”

“No,” Jason’s voice is a little rusty from not doing much talking, but he manages. “We’ll be fine..”

Marcus and Cass disappear into the back and Jason feels lost for a second. Too used to being around Cass.

“These are better quality than I thought they would be,” Damian’s voice comes from the right. Turning Jason sees him flipping through the smaller suits.

Jason finds a hint of a smile cross his face. He doesn’t say anything in response, walking over to a different rack of suits. Even though his hands flip through the suits he stares at them blankly, he hasn’t had to wear a suit in…well he’d probably been in one when he’d woken up in his coffin, but that doesn’t exactly count.

Perhaps he should’ve asked for help. He might remember Alfred’s rules on how to pick the best suit, but that’d been as a kid, not as an adult.

“I don’t know why you’re looking at the mediums Todd when you’re a large,” despite the words Damian’s voice is far from cutting. “I’m sure you’ve worn a suit before.”

“Not... “ It leaves Jason without meaning to.

Damian sighs. “Well I’m sure there’s a stray tape measure lying around here somewhere.” He gives Jason a push. “Larges are that way.”

Even through anger and grief there’s something bemusing about a ten year old being better at picking out suits. Not that Jason’s going to exactly try and stop Damian at this point. It just means...Jason’s not quite sure, except that he trust Damian enough for this.

When Cass, Marcus, and a woman who must be Hannah, come out from the back both he and Damian have their suits picked out—Damian even found bat shaped cufflinks in the display case of them, according to him they were gaudy but appropriate. Then comes their own fittings and Jason’d forgotten how boring they were.

“They’ll be ready for pickup in the morning.” Marcus smiles. “Even if it was unfortunate circumstances it was good to see you again my dear. Tell your father and Mr. Pennyworth I said hello.” The words send a pang through Jason that’s probably shared by Cass and Damian. After all the world only thinks Batman is dead, not Bruce Wayne. On the drive to Gotham Damian had insisted on looking up to see what the family might be doing to make sure no one knew the connection.

Turned out ‘Bruce Wayne’ _was_ in town, even planning on attending the memorial tomorrow. Jason’s more than willing to bet it’s J’onn and it hurts to see the lie, as important as it is.

Back in the truck Cass once again doesn’t point them north, she drives back west. Stopping when they reach a middle of the road hotel.

“Why are we staying here when we could be going to the Manor?” _Now_ Damian sounds offended.

Yet Cass is just as patient with him. “We’ll go there tomorrow, after the memorial.”

Damian frowns, but doesn’t protest that at least. “Why did he call you miss Wayne?” It’s not quite anger in his voice.

Cass keeps her focus on the road. “Because Bruce adopted me too Damian.”

-

Cass awakes in the morning to the sound of rain. With a soft laugh she rises, Gotham pulling out all her stops it seems.

It’s no surprise to see Damian up already, his eyes are red from crying and she wishes he’d relax enough that she could give him the hug he needs. Even after almost four months together however he’s still fairly prickly. So she has to settle on reaching out and squeezing his shoulder as she passes him.

By the time she finishes her shower and dries her hair Jason’s awake. None of them speak as they move around each other, the silence—save for the occasional cat utterance—fitting. They finish packing up and head back to the truck, only stopping to buy umbrellas from the gift shop.

It’s raining hard enough that the truck’s wipers struggle to keep the windshield clear, thankfully there’s not much in the way of traffic at the moment. It helps that seemingly every store and office building they pass is closed.

Coventry’s is open though, perhaps only because they need to pick up their clothes, Marcus even thoughtful enough to put them in waterproof wrappings.

Two hours before the service. Cass drives aimlessly, they probably should get something to eat, but she doubts if she suggested it she’d get agreement. Jason and Damian in their own grief-filled worlds. There is perhaps some irony in her being the most focused after everything that’s happened, but one of them has to be, and for now she can set aside her grief.

Even if they don’t eat anything she knows they’ll have to change clothes eventually, and a diner would work better than a store. The problem is finding an open one. She gets a bit of luck in that department, finding one only a few minutes later. Then comes poking and prodding Damian and Jason to come with her, then into the bathroom to change into their suits.

She orders a large basket of fries and a chocolate milkshake while they change—once they’re done she’ll change herself.

The milkshake and fries have arrived by the time they do exit. She’s already eaten a few herself, old memories of Steph and Tim introducing her to the concept years ago now filling her.

“Eat,” her words break the silence they’ve shared for hours now. Damian’s eyes narrow as she demonstrates, but he doesn’t reject it outright. Grabbing her own bag of clothes she heads into the women’s restroom.

Even after a few years in the League she’s never gotten used to wearing dresses, the whole of it just...weird to her. Marcus knows her preferences though, so while it’s a dress it’s done in a flapper style, relatively shapeless and easy enough to move in should she have to fight. Her hands smooth down the wool as something like a sigh leaves her. This isn’t at all how she imagined her return to Gotham, but they’re all going to have to live with it now.

She finds she dreads more going to the Manor afterwards than the ceremony itself, too unsure of what reception she’ll receive, or how everyone will react to Jason and Damian. Steph might have taken it in her stride, but then she’d never known Jason before, or even heard of Damian. It’s going to be...interesting.

Stepping out of her shoes into the flats she’d gotten along with the dress, she packs up all her old clothes and steps out. Relieved to see a good chunk of the fries’ve been eaten. She joins Jason on his side of the booth, pressing her shoulder into his arm as she eats some more herself. He pushes back, but keeps silent.

When the clock says eleven thirty she tosses a twenty on the table and they leave. Soon joining the flood of others on their way to the Memorial.

The Botanical Gardens themselves are packed tight with people, screens have been set up for those not lucky enough to make it to the where the actual service is held. Not for a lack of trying however, people pushing and trying to elbow their way closer to the closed coffin and the heroes surrounding it.

Those people don’t have the same sort of training the three of them do however. Even with the added sea of umbrellas to contend with they move seamlessly with the crowd getting ever closer to the front.

As they move she finds herself spotting all sorts of people. Penguin, Catwoman, Scarface, Harvey, Poison Ivy, with Harley next to her causing a minor scene with how loud her crying is.

Bullock, Montoya, other beat cops and detectives from the GCPD. They know the villains are here, but it’s clear Batman’s death has created a sort of truce. She also doubts anyone’s likely to cause a scene with the heroes they’d have to deal with. Well, unless you were the Joker, but he’s wonderfully absent so far. She prays he never does show up, if only for Jason’s sake.

Finally the three of them stop, they could try to push closer, and for a moment Damian does—before both she and Jason stop him—but the likelihood of them being spotted goes up if they get any closer.

They can see everything from here anyways. The closed coffin, Superman, Wonder Woman Nightwing, Oracle, Batgirl—something like pride swells in her to see Steph as Batgirl, even if the touches of purple will take some getting used to—Red Robin, Huntress. Nearby is Alfred and ‘Bruce’ too, talking quietly with Gordon. She’s sure if she looked she’d find other heroes around, but she can’t stop staring at the coffin, Batman’s cape and cowl covering it.

Neither she nor Jason have let go of Damian, and she can feel him tremble under her hand as Superman clears his throat, the whole garden falls silent, all eyes on the Man of Steel.

Eulogy after eulogy, memory after memory. Cass isn’t the only one crying by the end of it.

Some part of her wishes she could be up there though, to give her own accounting of the Batman she knew. Even though she won’t say a word she picks out what she’d say. How she admired his unwavering loyalty to his oath, to Justice. How, despite so many appearances to the contrary, willing he was to give second chances. The love he had for his city and his family, though he’d hardly shown the latter.

Batman might be dead, but she’s certain one of them will take up the mantle. The idea and story will live on. Bruce would’ve wanted it that way.

Then it’s over. Oh there’s the service tomorrow at the Hall of Justice, but it’s not the one that matters. Batman was _Gotham’s_ hero, here is where those that loved him best would mourn and remember.

Jason’s eyes meet hers and he tilts his head towards the coffin, she finds herself nodding. With care they guide Damian closer, again moving with the crowd, making it harder for them to be spotted.

When they reach it Cass goes first, recalling the first time she’d seen it spread out behind him.

This one is new, untouched by bullets or any threats. Yet it feels the same as she rest her hand atop it, runs her and across it as she walks past. Turning she stands and waits for Jason and Damian.

Jason goes next, his whole body trembling, his hand goes out but he hesitates. Fingers shaking as he wars with himself, anger and grief, betrayal and forgiveness. It’s Jason’s choice what he chooses but she has her hopes. The dead owed you nothing save the memories you held of them, and she does not want that bitterness in Jason to become his whole being.

His hand touches the cape, fabric bunching as he grips it tight. She almost expects him to tear it off, except his fingers relax and he lets go, his trembling easing as he continues walking. He comes to a stop next to her and links his hand with her own.

-

Damian doesn't know what to feel as he approaches the empty coffin of his father.

All he has of the man are stories and his mother’s plans. How he was supposed to succeed father in being Batman, finally spread the League’s order to Gotham before Damian eventually took over as the head of the League itself.

Except now the League is in tatters, he doesn’t know where mother is, his father is dead, and Damian is far to young to be Batman—as much as he might want it now.

All those plans dashed..

His hand trembles in a mix of grief and awe as he reaches out for the cape, fingers brushing away the water beading on it, although it doesn't do much in this rain. He wishes he could’ve seen it on father, what a living thing it must have been. He wishes he could’ve seen the power and strength father wielded, and not the least of him.

Yet as much as it might be possible for some, time travel is not within Damian’s grasp yet. All he’ll have now are the stories and memories.

Cain’s smile is wan as he approaches her and Todd. Which brings a whole other tangle of emotions, because mother had never mentioned that father’d taken Cain in too. And _why_ hadn’t she? Cain seems disinclined to lie where it matters, so she must be telling the truth—he guesses soon enough they’ll find out. So why did mother keep _that_ from him when she’d, supposedly, told him everything else?

It does not make him _doubt_ his mother, but it engenders...distrust and it disturbs him. He’s sure she had her reasons for keeping the truth from him, but that doesn’t mean he has to _like_ it.

“Come on kiddo.” Todd’s free hand comes to rest between Damian’s shoulder blades and he should protest, but the warmth of it is comforting. “Let’s go introduce you to the rest of this fucked up family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like always new chapters every day. So see you tomorrow!


	2. Chapter 2

Despite being far fuller than it usually is the Manor is near silent, it's visitors—and a part of Alfred mourns that they are just visitors now—quiet as church mice in their particular mournings.

Save for Master Tim everyone is in the parlor, silent and stricken. With care Alfred sets down the tea service and begins filling cups, passing them out to everyone.

“Alfred,” Miss Barbara's smile is faint. “You don’t need too…” She drifts off, unsure of how to finish.

He cannot manage a smile of his own, but there is a warm fondness that peaks through his grief. “Thank you Miss Barbara, but it helps me.”

Bruce Wayne, his son, is dead—even if it is only these people that know that truth. But there is still his legacy to look after, the children and friends Master Bruce had gathered around him and helped. So there is grief, but there is also hope.

The doorbell rings and the world seems to pause for a moment. Alfred straightens and meets J’onn’s gaze. “I shall let you know if you are required.”

J’onn’s nod is grave, he might be doing this, but he dislikes it as much as the rest of them, however necessary it might be.

Alfred walks to the door, finding himself hoping it is someone he can turn away, this family has enough to deal with right now to be disturbed. He opens the door.

A young boy, a man whose face is partly obscured by an umbrella, and… “Miss Cassandra.”

Propriety be damned he reaches out and embraces her. She is perhaps the last person he expected after she’d been gone the past two years, but he’s grateful that she returned all the same. “The others will be glad to see you.” Miss Stephanie and Master Tim most of all, perhaps it will even be enough to pull Master Tim from the Cave.

“Thank you Alfred,” her embrace is tight before she lets him go. “It’s good to be back. I missed you.”

“And we missed you too Miss Cassandra.” He ushers them all inside. “Everyone is in the parlor.” She knows where it is, he would prefer to take her and her companions there himself, but he is afraid merely calling down to the Cave will not be enough to roust Master Tim.

“Thank you.”

With a nod he turns and leaves.

There is a strange...lacking in the Cave since Master Bruce’s death, one that seems more apparent with Master Tim in the computer chair. On screen the fight with Darkseid rages again. Alfred holds back his sigh, he’d hoped in the past few days Master Tim would give up the idea that Master Bruce was still alive. Perhaps Miss Cassandra’s arrival will remind him of those who still need him.

“Master Tim, there is someone upstairs who wishes to see you.”

On the screen Wonder Woman punches Darkseid, Batman is a dark blur in the corner. “If it’s Kon tell him I’ll talk later,” despite his words Master Tim’s focus is still on the screen.

“It is not the young Mr. Kent, but someone else entirely. I do insist you come up and see for yourself Master Tim, I can promise you will not regret it.” If Master Tim will not come then Alfred will play as dirty as he needs to, nevermind how it might hurt.

“You’re not going to leave it alone are you?” Master Tim finally looks away from the screen, he looks a mess and Alfred wonders when the last time the boy slept was.

Alfred draws himself upright. “No Master Tim I will not. Not in this case. Your hunt,” as much as he wants to he will not call it a wild goose chase. If this is how Master Tim will mourn than Alfred will not stop him. “Can wait.”

Master Tim sinks into himself some. “Alright.” Alfred remains until the computer is off and the boy is walking back up the stairs, making sure to follow behind so that he will not turn around and go back.

“The parlor,” he guides gently.

Everyone looks up as they enter, but Master Tim looks as well. Alfred can tell when Master Tim spots Miss Cassandra from the surprise that runs through him. However his gaze quickly shifts and he goes white as a sheet. “Jason.”

It seems Alfred was mistaken earlier about the quality of the silence in the Manor, for with Master Tim’s utterance things have become far quieter still. Perhaps it is a good thing J’onn has made himself scarce.

Yet as Alfred follows the boy’s gaze he discovers Master Tim is _not_ _wrong_. There, behind Miss Cassandra and next to the boy from earlier, is Master Jason. The most uncanny thing of all is how close Clayface’s simulacra was: tall and broad shouldered, shaggy black hair, a face slightly sharper than Alfred remembers; puberty’s work fully finished instead of just begun.

Alfred is quiet relieved he’s not holding anything, otherwise it would be in pieces on the floor.

Under the sudden weight of stares Master Jason crosses his arms, head sinking slightly into his shoulders. “What?” It’s snappish, but it doesn’t have the sort of weight of voice that Master Bruce said Clayface had had.

“I just can’t believe no one noticed you until now,” the boy’s voice is sharp.

Despite his discomfort at being stared at Master Jason rolls his eye. “You’re just jealous,” it’s a good natured sort of tease, like the ones Master Jason used to share with Master Dick.

Speaking of, Master Dick is staring just as much as everyone else—except Misses Stephanie and Cassandra. They’ve all been fooled before during Hush’s plot after all. It’s not that much of a stretch to think this something like that.

“Jesus,” Master Jason stiffens. “Would one of you fucking do or _say_ something? This rate I’m gonna think you’re all dead too.”

The words have the jarring effect Master Jason probably hoped they’d have. Everyone bursting into action all at once. Master Tim hangs back but Miss Cassandra goes to him, sweeping him up into a tight hug. One that Master Timothy reciprocates. Good. Master Dick all but swings over to Master Jason. Still staring in amazement as if he cannot quiet believe it. Granted neither can Alfred, they’d all known Master Jason’s coffin was empty after Hush. But none of them had quiet believed that he might be _alive_.

“Are you actually going to hug me Dickie-bird or just keep staring like a loon?” Despite the words there’s no true heat to them, yet they seem all the prompting Master Dick needs. Clutching Master Jason tightly and burying his face in his shoulder.

Miss Barbara approaches more slowly. Wary, but hoping for the best. Even with everything that's happened Alfred is glad she came. "Jason?"

Master Jason manages something like a smile. "Hey Babs. You still keeping everyone in line?" He holds out a hand.

She shakes her head. "No, I'm in Metropolis now." She takes his hand in both her own, staring at it as if it will tell her some grand secret.

"Well, no wonder everything's gone to shit here."

Miss Barbara's laughter is wet and rough. Her fingers trembling as Master Jason gives her hands a squeeze.

“Are we quite done with the tearful reunions?” The boy again. There is something familiar about him, the way his green eyes scan the room. Why he is with Miss Cassandra and Master Jason is a curiosity—and how _they_ came to end up in each other’s sphere’s when they’d never met before is another.

From her spot on the couch Miss Stephanie rolls her eyes. “You’re just jealous you’re not the center of attention right now kiddo.”

This draws something like a sigh from Miss Cassandra, but as seems to becoming a habit among them all they stare at Miss Stephanie in silence. She brazens it out far better than Master Jason does. “What? Cass had to give me Batgirl _sometime_.” She rolls her eyes. “It just happened more recently than some of you thought.”

Surprises then, are coming out of the woodwork.

The boy rolls his eyes as well, but there’s far more anger behind them. “I don’t think they much care for you asinine opinions Brown.”

“Damian!” Miss Cassandra and Master Jason chastise at the same time. There’s almost a parental note to it, even with the curiosities piling up Alfred finds himself smiling. It is perhaps not what he thought their lives would ever come to, but even through his grief he finds a brief shine of grandparental pride.

Damian’s expression grows surly, but he quiets. Master Jason heaves a sigh. “I guess we might as well get it over with now. Cass?”

“Not fair,” she sounds more exasperated than anything however. She only lets go of Master Tim long enough to move behind him, pulling him into another hug as she rests her chin on his shoulder. “Everyone this is Damian, he’s...Talia’s son, with Bruce.”

And again silence falls. Alfred himself cannot quite believe it however. Despite Talia’s hopes to the contrary she and Master Bruce had ever been at cross-purposes. So the idea that Master Bruce had let down his guard enough, even if only for a night, is...nigh unheard of. The recent tumult regarding Miss Kyle a prime example.

“I will submit to a DNA test if you insist,” Master Damian’s tone is one of lofty acquiescence. “But it is the truth as Mother told it to me. You need not introduce yourselves, she also told me all about you.”

“He’s certainly got the al Ghul ego,” Master Dick’s sotto voce needs work. Knowing Master Richard on the other hand he perhaps meant it that way.

Green eyes narrow. “Considering yours and father’s many arguments Grayson I would have thought you’d like someone else to sweep in and take it all. Although I will admit I am far too young to be Batman for a while yet. Perhaps when I’m sixteen.”

“Bruce isn’t dead,” it is the closest thing Master Tim has to outbursts these days.

It almost makes Alfred regret bringing the boy up, he should have warned Miss Cassandra at the least that Tim was...obsessing. There’s nothing to be done for it now, Alfred can only hope he’ll have a moment alone with her soon to talk about it, fresh eyes, fresh insights as it were. That can wait for later however.

“Tim,” Master Dick’s sigh flows through his whole body.

Tim stiffens. “He’s _not_ Dick. It just doesn’t add up and can’t believe everyone else’s just ignoring the evidence.”

Alfred steps it, intent on stopping this before it becomes a right row and someone says something they’ll regret. The family’s just come back together after all, he doesn’t want them to tear themselves apart, not if he has anything to say about it. “I know it is early yet, but perhaps rest would not be unacceptable considering the circumstances. I am sure Master Jason, Miss Cassandra, and Master Damian would like some time to settle in as well.” Some space would be good for all of them.

Master Jason extracts himself finally from Master Dick and Miss Barbara. “Yeah.”

“Can I go out and get the kittens?” For a change Master Damian sounds eager. There have not been pets in the house since Ace died, and it will be an interesting experience dealing with kittens.

With something like a wan smile on her face Miss Cassandra lets go of Master Tim, who storms away, and goes to Master Damian. “Should bring everything else in too.”

As they leave Master Jason comes up to Alfred and surprises him by pulling him into a hug. “Hey Alf,” Master Jason’s tone is softer. “Would’ve brought a book for the collection, but I don’t think Cass would’ve let us stop,” his tone is wry.

Alfred barely hears Miss Cassandra’s response over the relief that floods him at Master Jason’s words. Only three other people know of that after all. It’s not something Tommy, or Clayface, or even Talia would know. This is Master Jason in truth, and while it hurts that it’s Master Bruce’s death that finally brought the boy out of the shadows he’d been hiding in. There’s also joy that he’s finally back home.

-

Tim might logically know that it’s not Clayface, but that doesn’t stop the rest of him from having something of a minor panic attack.

In his old room he rests his back against the wall and sags to the ground.

So Talia’s insinuations’d been right, Jason _was_ alive. For how long though, and how she’d known that are questions yet to be answered, but Tim’s sure Jason would answer if he asked.

Not that Tim _will_ ask, because those questions are unimportant in the face of finding out what _really_ happened to Bruce and getting him back. All he has right now are threads, he just needs to find the right ones to follow and see what they make.

Some of the papers littered by the door shift and Tim’s head shoots up, blinking at the cat suddenly there. It’s white with brown splotches all over, it turns a few times before realizing he’s watching it. Unafraid it trots up to him and gives a questioning meow. Did one of Selina’s cats somehow get into the Manor?

No, that Damian kid’d mentioned something about kittens. This must be one of them. Tim gently holds his hand out and lets the kitten sniff. Seemingly satisfied it hops into his lap, purring when he starts petting it.

“Where did…” Damian’s voice trails off as his head pops into Tim’s room. “Ophelia come here.”

It would probably be better _not_ to talk, but Tim finds he can’t help himself—must be that sliver of Robin still in him. “She’s a cat, not a dog.”

Damian huffs. “I know _that_ Drake. I just thought she was a cat with better tastes.” Tim guesses it’s too much to ask that Talia’s kid not be a snotty brat.

“She’s not bothering me if that’s what you’re worrying about.” Tim doesn’t know quite why he says that.

“I don’t care if she’s not bothering you,” Damian rolls his eyes. “She’s however _my_ cat and I’d like her back now.”  Before Tim can think of a response Damian continues. “I hope you know I’ll be watching you the closest Drake, considering how much of father’s company you run. Your work has been adequate so far, but if that changes I will not hesitate.”

Now Tim’s the one who rolls his eyes, Damian’s going to be...hard to get used to. “You’re not even in the will, so it’s never going to be _your_ company, even if you are Bruce’s son.” Talia might lie about a lot of things, but Tim finds himself doubting that’s one of them. He also does doubt that in the next few months until ‘Bruce’ dies Damian will do his best to change said will.

“It was perhaps not mother’s best decision not to send me here sooner to become Robin,” Damian’s tone suggests that even saying that leaves a bad taste in his mouth. “But with all the upheaval the League has been experiencing the last year and a half she thought it best I stay by her side. Once things were more stable and I’d finished my Year of Blood she’d said I could come here to take my rightful place.” He crosses his arms. “That of course was before Slade happened, and mother giving me to Todd and Cain to look after,” again there’s distates in his tone. Brat probably thought he could look after himself.

It does however imply that Damian doesn’t know what Talia’s been up to the past few months, or that she’d escaped Deathstroke fairly easily. Tim’s not sure he wants to be the one to tell him either. “That still doesn’t change anything.” Ophelia tries to curl deeper into his lap, which only results in her rolling off him. She gives herself a shake, then pretends like she meant to do that as she slinks under his bed.

“Damn it,” Damian hisses. “Fine, you can look after her for now.” Tim feels so blessed. “And I hope you’re right.”

The words make Tim start slightly in surprise. “What?”

“I hope you’re right about father.” Damian for a change looks like the kid he is. “I would like to meet him, at least once.” As if he’s afraid he’s said too much Damian vanishes.

Well, Tim supposes one possibly ally, even if he can’t quite stand him, is better than none at all.

-

Dick still can’t quite believe it. When Jason, Cass, and Damian’d gone out to get their things Alfred had pulled them all aside and told them about the book comment, and how that had to prove that it truly was Jason, returned to them by some miracle or another.

Not that Dick needed any more convincing, no grifter or criminal pretending to be Jason Todd would’ve let Dick hang onto them for well over ten minutes. No, that was Jason having long ago accepted nothing could stop Dick when he was in a hugging mood and to just go with it.

Which still doesn’t mean that Dick’s _over_ the fact that his little brother has returned. They might’ve known his coffin was empty, but that doesn’t mean they’d quite thought he was _alive_.

Now though he’s following Jason, who has a lovely calico kitten named Desdemona in his arms. “You really should let me give you the tour,” although there’s something about Jason trying to figure out the new layout of the Manor that’s...endearing.

“I know where my room is Dick,” there’s no heat to Jason’s snapping however. “It’s not my fault everything’s been fucked with.”

“Earthquake’s’ll do that to a place.” It’s almost nice that they can joke about No Man’s Land now. “We managed to salvage as much stuff of yours that we could. But I don’t think Bruce or Alfred really put it in a specific _room_.” He shrugs. “So I don’t know, pick one? No one really lives here anymore anyways.” It sends a fresh pang through him. He and Bruce might’ve had their problems, but he still wishes he weren’t dead.

Jason pauses, and Dick has to stop himself from running into him—which only serves to remind Dick that Jason’s _not_ a gangly fourteen year old anymore. “So what, you’re still in San Francisco then?”

“Bludhaven now actually.” Jason’s missed so much in the past ten years. “Babs' in Metropolis,” which sets off a different ache altogether. “Tim used to live on GU’s campus until he dropped out last quarter.” Oh boy had that been an argument and a half between Tim and Bruce, especially after the whole high school fiasco. “Think he lives in one of the apartments Bruce...kept around, probably which ever’s closest to WE.” Dick finds he can’t help his shrug. “So for the longest time think it’s just been Alfred and Bruce in here.” Now it’d just be Alfred, and the three of them Dick guessed. Unless they too decided to take an apartment.

“Jesus,” Jason’s definitely more prone to cursing than he used to be. Dick does hope he quit smoking at least. “Must’ve driven Alfred up the walls.”

Dick knows exactly what he’s talking about, and it brings a wan smile to his face as he leans his shoulder against Jason’s. “Bruce always drove Alfred up the walls,” grief tinges the fondness.

“Yeah,” Jason’s own voice is thick. “But he had us to hold him back...kind of.”

“Well after you...died things were pretty bad for a while. Tim kind of foisted himself upon Bruce.” The smile on Dick’s face grows a bit more warm. Bruce might’ve been against it but Tim becoming Robin had been a good thing. “Then Tim had to stop ‘cause of his dad. Then Steph faked her death, and Tim came back after his dad was murdered. But, you know, as Red Robin, so it wasn’t quite the same.”

Jason runs a hand through his hair. “Shit.”

Dick might agree, but he also knows things aren’t that simple. He also has so many questions he wants to ask Jason but doesn’t know where to start, how do you politely ask someone how they came back from the dead? Also it didn’t feel right to ask on the heels of Bruce’s funeral. Perhaps luckily Dick doesn’t get the chance to speak.

“Dropped out? First you then the new kid? And here I was trying to figure out who I could pay to fake a diploma so I could _go_ to college.” 

The laugh that startles out of Dick is a bit self-deprecating. “You always were Bruce’s favorite in that regard.”

Jason’s silence isn’t exactly uncomfortable, but there’s an air to it that has Dick frowning. “Jason?”

The only answer he gets for a minute is a long, slow exhale. “It’s...complicated Dick. Just...help me pick out a goddamn room for me and Cass.” He stalks off down the hall.

Leaving Dick to play catch up. “You and _Cass?”_

-

“I’m so glad you’re back in Gotham.”  Babs finds she can’t hold back a faint smile as Steph hugs Cass tightly. Cass leans into the hug, mindful of the cat, his name was apparently Lucien and honestly it sounded almost normal for a cat name compared to some of the others.

Despite her own smile there’s an air of guilt around Cass—but that’s always been her struggle, hers and Bruce’s. “I’m glad I’m back too.”

Babs perhaps regrets coming to Gotham some, even if she needed to mourn as much as everyone else—she and the rest of the ‘family’ might have parted ways, but well, they’re still her _family_ , and she won’t hold Bruce’s sins against them—but she _is_ glad to see Cass again. Her focus might have been on the Birds, but every once in a while she’d done her best to try and track down Cass, only to be left with crumbs. Crumbs that weren’t very pleasant either.

There’s a kittenish sound of anger then Cass is hugging her and she starts. “I’m sorry.”

She takes a few deep breaths to better hold back the tears, though she supposes Cass already knows she wants to cry. “I don’t see what you need forgiveness for.” Except perhaps the occasional flash of presumptuous parental care. “Steph’s been doing fine as Batgirl so far.” Her smile is perhaps watery, but nobody seems to care.

Step tosses her blonde hair back. “Damn right I have. You should’ve seen the look on Tim’s face the first time I swung in and saved his ass. Still makes me wish I had a camera.”

“I’m glad,” Cass’ smile is a bare twitch, but there’s happiness there.

Perhaps it’s too soon to ask, but Babs also has to know. “What are _you_ going to do?” On this day above all others Babs finds herself hoping that Cass says retirement, but she knows it won’t be. Like Bruce the day Cass ‘retires’ is the day she dies, and yes, Babs hates her a little for that. Because there’s so much more to life than fighting crime—a life that seems to have become more thankless in Gotham as the years have gone by.

“I don’t know,” Cass pulls away from Babs and scoops up the other male cat, Alexander. “Perhaps Batman, perhaps...someone new.” Something like an exasperated huff leaves her. “I guess it depends on how worthy I feel.”

“I think you’d make a great Batman Cass.” Steph’s probably right. Although Babs finds herself hoping that’s not something included in Bruce’s will. Gotham might need Batman, but Babs finds she doesn’t want to throw the closest thing she has to a daughter onto that particular altar.

Cass will do it herself on the other hand, whether Babs wants her to or not.

“I know you don’t like it,” Cass’ dark eyes stare right into her. Babs’d forgotten how uncanny that could be, Cass reading a body like a book. “I’m not sure I deserve it after everything.”

“Against your will,” Steph sing-songs it.

Cass huffs. “We’ll see,” it’s hedging but Babs knows she’ll have to settle for it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should probably get a tissue or two for this one...

Wayne Manor is as large and imposing as mother had said it was, Damian would find the architecture and history of it invigorating if not for the circumstances. However the circumstances overwhelm almost everything.

After all Damian had always planned on being Robin, but with no Batman what was the use of Robin?

It’s perhaps cruel to think that a greater loss than his actual father, but the only context he has of his father _is_ Batman. Bruce Wayne the man was a far lesser thing.

Those thoughts run around and around his head all night, making for a _wonderful_ morning.

Granted when he stumbles into the kitchen—he’d already memorized the floorplan yesterday—he seems to not be the only person who had a sleepless night.

Cain—in Todd’s clothes, nothing unexpected there—is half asleep on Drake, who’s nursing a mug of coffee. Todd himself is nowhere to be found, also no surprise, and Grayson’s digging into a bowl of neon colored cereal. He’d overheard yesterday that Gordon planned on going back to Metropolis today, so perhaps she’s packing. Brown, thankfully, had left yesterday already.

“Good morning Master Damian,” Pennyworth turns slightly from the stovetop. “Is there anything you might like for breakfast?”

“Yunnan if you have it,” in a way Damian’s far more used to this than mornings the past four months. “And porridge, with honey and cinnamon.”

“Morning Damian,” Cain yawns. She stretches and as her body loosens she pats the stool between herself and Grayson.

He gives a stiff nod as he takes the seat, familiarity making her a better choice than anything else. Granted the seat also means he has to deal with _Grayson_.

Who attempts to rustle his hair. Damian stops that with a quick grab with his own hand. Twisting Grayson’s arm. “Don’t touch me.” He’d much prefer it if Grayson kept trying to hug Todd.

“Master Damian,” a china cup is set in front of him as Pennyworth speaks. “No broken bones until after dinner, I must insist.” There’s no real force behind the words, but Damian finds himself letting go of Grayson anyways.

“Geeze kid,” Grayson rubs his wrist before returning to his cereal. “Almost afraid to ask who’s been teaching you.”

Damian huffs. “Cain has these past few months, Todd as well, but his skills are average at best.” Cain’s sigh has Damian snorting into his tea. “Before them mother only brought in the finest assassins from around the world to teach me. I have literally learned from the best.”

A mew distracts him and he looks down to see. “Ophelia.” It takes a bit of contortionism but he manages to stay on the stool and pick her up. She purrs as he scratches that spot behind her ears.

“Good thing I didn’t have plans on sleeping last night,” Drake mutters this into his coffee. “Yowled up a damn storm from under the bed.”

“That is clearly lies Drake.” Damian narrows his eyes at him. “Out of all my cats Ophelia is clearly the quietest, that’s why I named her Ophelia.” Honestly. “I would you prefer you _not_ slander my cats.”

“Too early for big words,” Todd declares from the kitchen door. He stumbles over to the rest of them, leaning against Cain’s back and using her head as a resting place for his chin. “What’d I miss?”

“Think Damian’s going to sue Tim for cat-libel. Not the weirdest thing to ever happen in Gotham,” Grayson is far too chipper.

Cain hands up her mug of tea and Todd unbends himself enough to drink it, all while his free hand darts out to ruffle Damian’s hair. “Be nice to your brother.”

Damian swats Todd’s hand away, but not fast enough. “You haven’t been nice to him as far as I can tell. Why should I?”

Todd blinks at him for a moment. “Kiddo, he and I haven’t even said two words to each other.”

“I _am_ still here you know.”

“So you can’t use me as your example.” Todd finishes as if Drake hadn’t butted in.

Instead of deigning that with a response Damian focuses on his own tea. He’s clearly going to have to get used to this new level of chaos, it’s just a matter of figuring out how best to come out on top.

“Your breakfast Master Damian.”

Damian breaths deep before digging in. “Thank you Pennyworth.” He’s only polite now because if he isn’t Cain or Todd will pull him aside and it’s just better to avoid their asinine ‘talks’ outright if he can help it.

“Tim if she was keeping you up you could’ve come and gotten me.” There is something amusing about watching Cain lean towards Drake, Todd, coming with her by default.

“Breakfast Master Jason?”

Todd pulls away from Cain, setting her mug back down and popping his spine so loud they could probably hear it in Metropolis. “‘S fine Alf, I got it covered.” Damian doesn’t know whether he should watch Todd and Pennyworth not-fight it out, or focus on Cain trying to mother Drake. Either might prove to be entertaining.

Ophelia tries to sniff his porridge and he nudges her away. “Not cat food,” he tells her patiently. Todd and Cain have been no help in that department, happily feeding the kittens bits and pieces of their own servings.

Cain and Drake win out, if only by virtue of them being right next to Damian. “Like I said, didn’t really plan on sleeping last night Cass, thanks though.” Drake’s smile is ruined by a large yawn. “Got an easy morning, can take a nap after the Kord Industries board meeting with Lucius, the only other thing I’ve got before lunch is getting J’onn through his two meetings.”

Perhaps Damian will avail himself to help Cain, Drake’d been right after all about Damian not getting anything in the current state of father’s will. Yet if Drake’s going to run himself into the ground than he _clearly_ needs someone to look after him, the rest of the ‘family’ apparently not enough, otherwise WE will suffer and Damian will not stand for that. Even if it will never be his.

"Tim,” Damian knows that vaguely disappointed tone of Cain’s very well now.

“I got it covered Cass,” Drake brushes her off. Finishing off his coffee he stands. “I should be going though. Hey Alfred, think I’ll be staying here a few more days too, so don’t forget to set me a place at dinner.”

“Perish the thought Master Tim,” Pennyworth answers. Which distracts him enough that Todd can get in to the stovetop. Damian finds himself smiling around his spoon at Pennyworth’s annoyed huff.

Cain smiles and pats Drake’s now empty seat. “Join us Alfred, Jason can take care of it.”

Pennyworth sits, but there’s an air of discomfort around him. “Highly unusual,” he doesn’t sound all that displeased however. Even accepting the tea Cain give him.

“Are we sure it’s not Christmas? Getting Alfred to _sit_?” Damian’d almost forgotten Grayson was still here. Damn. Grayson stands and washes his bowl in the sink. “Granted if I remember correctly Jason’s cooking’s almost as good as yours Alfred. Maybe I should stick around.” He attempts to plaster himself against Todd’s back, only to be dislodged by some very insistent elbows.

“Off Dick, or I will not be held responsible for whatever hot food you get on that face. Babs’d probably kill me if I let that happen.” Todd rolls his eyes.

Stunned silence from both Pennyworth and Grayson, and the usual narrowing of eyes from Cain. Todd notices them all, how can he not? But pointedly chooses to ignore them. Flipping his bacon instead.

It seems that doesn’t satisfy Grayson however. “Jason…” Damian’s glad he’s almost finished with his breakfast, although he should perhaps stay and observe the coming fight, if only to gain tips on Grayson’s weaknesses for later use.

“It was a _joke_ , Jesus. I’m pretty sure I’m still allowed to make those, even with all the shit we’re going through.” He stirs the scrambled eggs with more force than they really need. “I don’t need you all tip-toeing around it. I died and now I’m not dead. If I want to make jokes in bad taste about it I damn well can.”

There’s a metallic squeak from the door as Gordon wheels herself in. “What’s this about bad taste?” Cain twists in her seat to give the older woman a hug. “Also who managed to get Alfred to _sit_?” Was it really that big a deal? “Are we ganging up on Dick again?”

Damian finds himself hoping not _all_ breakfasts here are like this.

-

Cass spends a few hours after breakfast reacquainting herself with the Manor. Not that it’s changed much for her, still good to do on the other hand.

She’s been...not saving the Cave for last. Putting it off, brutal honesty has been something she hasn’t let herself have in a long time, but if she’s going to stay in Gotham she needs to reacquaint herself with it.

Babs’ question from yesterday, and the resigned disappointment that’d sung through her body still echo in Cass’ mind. Steph’s endorsement beside, Cass isn’t sure she deserves to be Batman. Although the rest of her points out that in the grand scheme ‘deserves’ doesn’t play into it. There is no Batman in Gotham and his death will have only won the city a brief reprieve from her darker elements.

It’s no real surprise then that her body ends up at the entrance to the Cave, though it is _somewhat_ surprising that Damian finds her what seems only seconds later. “I want to see it,” his voice waivers.

Well if it’s for him and not her, then she’s more than fine with that. Though she hesitates right before she touches the scanner, it’s been two years, for all she knows Bruce removed her vitals from the list. Her hand curls into a fist, nails biting into skin. She will not let her fear get the best of her. She will _not_.

Uncurling her hand she sets it on the scanner.

It whirs into life and a few seconds later the light flashes green, the door sliding away and the Cave exhaling cool air on the both of them.

She lets Damian rush ahead, content to take her time. The last of the lights turn on as she steps into the Cave proper. It hasn’t changed much at all since she was last down here, save for perhaps newer vehicles and a Batsuit only slightly different from the one she recalls.

“Batman’s trophies are not what I expected.”

A soft laugh leaves her at Damian’s comment. “They were Dick’s first,” she corrects. Granted it’s grown to be so much more than that since, a collection for every one of Bruce’s ‘children’, the superhero equivalent of art on the fridge as it were. Even with the sadness welling inside her the thought makes her smile.

Damian comes to stand next to her by the cases. “Mother told me, but I still can’t quite believe Grayson went out in _that_.”

“Jason too,” she points out. “Tim once.” She arches an eyebrow. “Tradition at that point I think?” She teases.

His whole face pinches as he crosses his arm. “I have far more dignity than any of them to go out in, in _underwear_.” This time Cass does her best to hold back the smile. “Brown it seems is the only one of them with something regarding sense.”

True, but Steph’d worn a skirt over armored leggings, only marginally better in Cass’ book. Damian’s never mentioned it, but with the revelation of him being Bruce’s son taking on Robin wouldn’t have been that out of the question. Perhaps he doesn’t want it, yet it’s something of a logical first step if he wants to be Batman one day. “Come on, I’ll tell you about all the trophies.” She nudges Damian back towards them.

It takes up another few hours, by the time she’s getting towards the end Tim’s joined them. Well he’s joined them in the Cave at least, his focus all on the computer. “What are you doing Drake?” She and Jason have agreed never to point out that for someone who doesn’t care much for people Damian sure is nosey about what they might be up to.

With the way Tim starts she wonders if he even realized they were there. “I’m...looking for discrepancies, things that might help me point out what happened to Bruce.” He sounds almost guarded as he says it, as if afraid they’ll try to talk him out of it.

Cass...isn’t sure how she feels. Perhaps he’s right and Bruce isn’t dead, and them mourning is just a bunch of play-acting for nothing. Yet if he is still alive...she worries what Jason might do. Everything about him suggests he’s starting to let go of his anger towards Bruce, but would that change if their father wasn’t as dead as they thought? She’s perhaps a little afraid herself, Bruce might give second chances, but he’d always been more exacting with her—not that she complained, she _wanted_ that, but it still stood.

Damian however seems to have no such conflict. Granted, for all his protestations to the contrary, he’s still a child. And what child would willingly admit their parents might be dead when there was the hope they weren’t? “What have you got so far?” Damian leaves her side and marches up to Tim. Perhaps she should encourage it only to get Damian to connect somewhat with the rest of the family.

“Not much,” Cass listens absently as Tim lays it all out for Damian. “...I might’ve found something that’ll help me, but it’s a _hardcopy_ file,” Tim says it like it’s a personal offense. “And likely in League hands.”

“Cain,” Damian turns to her, a glint in his eyes. “Help Drake with this so we can know once and for all.” He glowers when she giggles, but it _is_ sort of cute.

Surprise shudders through Tim. “Cass? What’s he talking about?”

With something like a sigh she takes her phone out and opens up her e-mail app. “I don’t know how quickly they’ll be able to work considering they’ve scattered, but I’ve got people in the League that might be able to get the file for you.” She pauses to type out the rest of her message to Jael’s dead-drop account. “What’s the file name?”

“Bat recursion 24. 24’s in numerals not spelled out.” He turns concern in his eyes. “How do you have people in the League?”

She opens her mouth to tell him, the truth even, no more lies if she can help it, but the sound of the door echoes down to them, along with the whir of the service elevator. When the doors open Alfred, Babs, Steph, Dick, and Jason step out. Jason looks more discomfited to be back in the Cave than even she felt.

“Perhaps,” Alfred starts without prompting, heading towards Tim and the computer. “It is far to early still for this. But I feel it may be like ripping off a bandaid in this case. Master Tim if you please?” Tim gives up the seat and Alfred takes it. “Access,” his voice trembles. “Access file ‘Final Will’.”

The screen jumps into life. Bruce appearing, he’s wearing the suit, but without the cowl. His expression is worn, tired. “I, Bruce Wayne, being of sound mind, and mostly sound body,” he shifts and gives a small grunt of pain. Cass finds herself stepping closer to Jason, his whole body’s trembling. “Do hereby make this my final will and testament.”

“I trust that you all can split my general assets as you see fit with only the bare minimum of squabbling,” his lips twitch in a smile. “You’re welcome to take whatever cars, apartments, houses, whatever that you want. And those you don’t want you can liquidate. As for the particulars. Dick…”

Perhaps Cass shouldn’t be tuning Bruce out, but at the moment it’s not about her. She takes Jason’s hand and squeezes it, he’s still trembling but it’s hard for her to tell if it’s anger or grief making him that way. It’s the first time he’s seen _Bruce_ in ten years after all, it’s got to be hard on him.

“Cassandra…” Her whole body starts as her focus returns to the screen. “Perhaps the first thing I should give you is an apology,” his smile is self-deprecating. “I know Tim and Barbara wished I didn’t, but I pushed you hardest of all, knowing that you’d take it without complaint.” His whole body seems to sag. “I also know you always felt welcome in this family for the most part, but I should have tried to give you more of a life outside of the Mission instead of pushing you deeper into it. Out of everyone however I knew you would be best suited to succeed me.”

She blinks back tears, doing her best to dash them away before they can slide down her cheeks. Jason’s hand slips from her own and he wraps it and his arm over her shoulders, the warmth and weight comforting.

“As for physical items...my mother’s pearls are yours if you should want them. I’d like to think she’d be proud of you wearing them.” So much for trying to stop her tears from falling. “As for Batman...I don’t know if I can give it to you, not because you’re not capable of taking on the uniform, but because I’m not sure Batman should live beyond me. Steph told me you passed Batgirl onto her, if you wish to take up a new name and uniform whatever resources you might want are yours in that regard.

“But Batman should die with me. That goes for all of you,” Bruce’s gaze turns cool. “None of you should take on Batman, become other heroes if you wish, but Batman is no more.”

The video flickers, Bruce’s expression grows hesitant. “Jason.”

Next to her she feels him stiffen, a sidelong look at him shows him caught between fight or flight. “I don’t know if you’re alive or dead. But I find myself hoping you are alive out there somewhere, that you’ve managed to find your way back to us, even if I never got to see you again.” On screen Bruce begins to cry, not that he’s the only one anymore. “Lad, I’m sorry I was too late to save you. That I wasn’t there when you needed me most. I’ve never forgiven myself for it, but I hope you have.

“The library’s yours if you want it. I know out of everyone you love those books and I know you’ll take good care of them.” Jason’s arm slips from her shoulder, she can hear him step backwards but says nothing. “I…” Again Bruce hesitates. “I’d always hoped that when you were old enough you’d take over the charities, we all might care about Gotham’s wellbeing, but you were always willing to fight more for it. I hope you do take them on, use them to make Gotham a far better place than I ever could.”

Jason’s footsteps aren’t quite his running gait, but she hears them rush up the stairs nonetheless. Even if she wanted to she wouldn’t stop him, Jason’s grief is his own and he needs to face it as he will. As much as she wants to help him she’s not sure she can.

The last part is for Alfred, as feels right. When the video ends quiet falls over all of them, each, once more, caught up in their private griefs. She reaches out and pulls Steph to her, needing someone to hold and comfort, for her sake as much as their own.

As the grief ebbs they all begin to compose themselves, some more than others. Next to Tim, Dick’s rubbing at his eyes and still sniffling, as his arm lowers he looks around. “Where’s Jason?”

It’s only a small flurry, but it spurs people into action nonetheless, save for her, Steph, and Damian. She isn’t surprised when Alfred approaches, his expression as wrecked as everyone else's. “You don’t seem all that concerned Miss Cassandra.” His voice is rough from crying.

“He’ll be back,” she answers with as much confidence as she can.

-

Jason barrels out of the Manor like a bat out of hell—ha—he shoves the key into the steering wheel of the truck as he leaps into it. It rumbles to life beneath him and he drives. He doesn’t quite know _where_ he’s going, only that it’s _away_.

It’s almost enough to make him wish Bruce _was_ alive, if only to punch the bastard in the face and yell at him. It would probably end with Jason being a crying wreck, but it’d be damn satisfying beforehand.

Perhaps the worst part is that Bruce’s right, about the charities, and now Jason’s torn between willfully throwing them away to spite Bruce. Or taking them on and, like Bruce said, make Gotham a far better place than he ever could.

He _wants_ to, it’s perhaps not all he’s ever wanted, but oh.

Jason had once thought coming to Gotham would be what made him let go of his anger, but now he finds that’s not true at all. _This_ , is a far greater internal struggle for him than whether or not to return to Gotham. Whether to take on the legacy his father’s left him or to throw it away.

No, the worst part isn’t that Bruce is right, the worst part is that it’s no real decision at all.

Because he might hate Bruce for what he didn’t do, but he’s never been cruel enough to make Gotham suffer for those sins.

He rolls down the window, letting in a roar of chilly autumn air. He’s been vaguely aware of where he’s been going, but focusing on the road he’s surprised to find he’s near Gotham’s Highgate Cemetery. Where Bruce’s parents are buried.

Where Jason’s likely been buried himself.

This time of night the graveyard’s closed of course, but since when has something like normal business hours stopped Jason? There’s likely a caretaker or something around, but as long as Jason’s careful no one’ll know he’s here.

It takes fifteen or so minutes to find his grave, and what he does find…

His own grave is no real surprise: Jason Wayne-Todd, beloved son & ally, rest in peace.

No, what he finds that sparks anger in him is that Shelia Hayworth’s grave is right next to his own. The death year is the same, so either she didn’t make it or only managed to hang on for a few months. If she had survived long enough to tell Bruce what happened, she clearly didn’t tell him the truth.

If she had she wouldn’t be here.

Jason finds himself storming away, hopping the wall and heading into Gotham proper. It’s not that hard once he starts looking to find a street vendor who sells spray paint, at ten bucks a can. The price is highway robbery, but Jason pays it anyways, scooping up a neon red can and shoving it in his jacket pocket.

Back to the cemetery. Now that he knows where he’s going it doesn’t take as long to get there.

Honestly after you’ve killed a few people a minor crime like grave desecration’s nothing.

He spends more time on his own than Shelia’s, although not by much. Although he’d like to think he reworking of Plath deserves some appreciation. Granted he’d also like to argue that if it was your own grave it didn’t count as desecration, only...redecorating.

“Everyone’s worried about you, you know,” Damian’s voice breaks the quiet.

Snorting Jason recaps the can and shoves it into his jacket again. “How’d you find me?”

Damian steps up next to him and rolls his eyes. “Todd, you have a flair for the dramatic and a taste for the macabre. The intersection of those two things is obviously you visiting your grave. How this failed to occur to anyone else is beyond me.”

It startles a laugh out of Jason. Jesus, the kid’s gonna be a menace when he’s older. “Gold star.”

“I fall with my black hair?” Damian’s head tilts as he stares at Jason’s grave. “That definitely has you written all over it.”

“Not really mine,” Jason answers with another laugh. “From a poem by Sylvia Plath, ‘Out of the ash/ I rise with my red hair/ And I eat men like air.’ It’s about the Holocaust and seeking death.” Jason shrugs. “The shoe doesn’t quite fit, but still felt appropriate enough.”

Damian’s silent for a moment. “Grandfather once said poetics were their own reward.” He huffs. “Which makes your first attempt seem rather literal.”

“Wasn’t trying to be poetic.” There’s no point asking how Damian knows Jason wrote _‘liar’_ before his own epitaph, probably the amount of drip from the spray. “She doesn’t deserve it.”

“Who was she?”

“My biological mother,” he sighs. “She used to work at a back alley abortion clinic, then when Roe V Wade passed they were still something of a back alley clinic, but they were legal. A few months after I was born, a girl died on the table and Sheila ran to England instead of facing criminal neglect charges. Perhaps the smartest decision she ever made was leaving me with my dad,” now there’s a bitter joke. “He fell in love with my step mom and I never knew until after I found my birth certificate.

“After some false leads Bruce & I found Sheila working at a refugee camp in Ethiopia, and later I found out she was being blackmailed by the Joker for medical supplies he could sell. Long story short a few days later Bruce and I found the medical supplies, and the trucks going out to various camps carrying Joker’s laughing gas. Bruce told me to watch the warehouse while he chased down the trucks. But I wanted to save my mom from the Joker, so I went in. I told her I was Robin and I could help and she…”

It’s a surprise how fast the bitter hate he’d only had perhaps an hour to experience the first time reappears. “She led me right to the Joker and handed me over like a damn gift. Cause it turned out she’d been embezzling from the camps, and if word got out about the medical supplies there’d be an investigation. She watched him beat me basically to death, then had the gall to be outraged when the Joker decided she was a loose end.” He sinks to the ground.

“I hated her, but I cut her free from her ropes anyways, because it was the right thing to do,” as bitter as it is to say. “Useless anyways, since the Joker’d locked us in. I don’t know if she survived, or for how long.” She’d been right by the door after all, further from the blast. “But whatever Bruce did know it clearly wasn’t the truth.” It might almost be worth it to find out how much he’d have to pay to have her moved to another plot, she doesn’t deserve to rest where she is.

“Do you regret it?” A surprising question coming from Damian, considering he usually held empathy towards humans in low-regard.

Jason stares at the graves, at what they represent. “It’s more complicated than that.” _How_ he couldn’t describe, but it’s the truth.

Damian tugs at Jason’s jacket sleeve. “We should head back to the Manor, that way Grayson can hug you instead of trying to hug me again.”

Standing Jason lets himself be pulled along. “It’s an impossible task Damian, easier to stop the sun shining. Just get used to it now.” Damian needs to learn how to be a kid anyways, it’d do him some good.

“What...what was father like?” Damian sounds almost his age as they climb back into the truck.

Jason lets the night air take his sigh. “He was...he was something else. Our first meeting he caught me jacking the Batmobile’s tires…”

-

Mother’s stories of father were always of a man who was perfect save for one flaw: he did not yet understand that the world would be better suited to the order of the League. It was their job, mother had said, to convince him of the error of his ways. So that he could take his rightful place as Ra’s heir.

Todd’s memories of father, or at least the ones he managed to share if the drive from the cemetery to the Manor, are of a man deeply flawed. A man who wrestled with the fact that sometimes his best was not enough and still tried anyways. A man with deep seated traumas, trust issues, and a too big heart paired with an inability to express to others how he felt.

The woman mother had brought in to teach him psychology—the groundwork for all good manipulations, as mother would say—had told him once of cognitive dissonance, when a mind held two conflicting ideas at the same time and refused to acknowledge the conflict between the two.

Damian had thought with his superior mind he would be above such things, that he would only hold the truth in his mind and discard what was not.

Yet how can mother’s stories be correct if Todd’s recollections are true? Memories were not perfect, Damian knew, but there’s a solidity to Todd’s, it also helps that there was backup in the Cave in the form of reports. Although those would likely fail to give the emotional particulars.

Now he sits in the parlor, Ophelia and Alexander curled up on his lap as he sketches. Even as his mind wrestles with it’s thoughts his pencil moves, a rough study of one of the bats he’d seen in the Cave, the crows feet he’d noticed at the corners of father’s eyes, which grows into the whole of father. Or at least all he’d seen in the video.

He’d seen photos of his father before, and a few videos of Batman, but there had been an unreality to them. The video seen only hours ago had been _real_ on the other hand, a man worn and burdened, wrestling with the fact he might never see his family again, giving them what he could.

It makes Damian ache even more, to his surprise. To think he’d never be able to meet the imperfect man his father seemed to have been. Unless Drake was right and father really wasn’t dead.

Tired eyes stare back at him from the page. He doesn’t quite toss the sketchbook away, but he does set it aside, too tired himself—at least emotionally. Scooping up Ophelia and Alexander from his lap he stands, waiting patiently for Alexander to move from his arms to the top of his head—he was almost getting too big for that now—before going off to find Todd and Cain. Perhaps if he asks politely they’ll both tell him more about Father.

After a general sweep he discovers they are in their room, he listens in at the keyhole, ostensibly to check that they’re not doing anything he technically shouldn’t know about—granted why the two of them had not yet had sex was beyond him. Their voices are muffled, but manages to make out what they’re saying well enough.

“What do you want to do?” Curiosity tinged with concern from Todd.

Cain takes her time in answering. “Something. He said Batman should die, but that won’t stop the criminals, they don’t fear the rest of the family the same way.” No, Damian supposed they didn’t.

It is not exactly a thing he is ashamed of, but there is guilt at the thought that if one of them becomes Batman he’ll be able to take his rightful place as Robin. And that he _wants_ that. It’s as ingrained in him as the idea that he’ll one day lead the League.

“It’s your call,” something in Todd’s confidence is heartening.

Pulling himself away from the keyhole Damian takes a deep breath and knocks. Opening the door when he finds it unlocked.

Neither Cain nor Todd seem all that surprised that it’s him. They’re curled up together, Todd’s back against the headboard and Cain’s head on his shoulder. Desdemona is in the pile of blankets around their laps, and Damian feels a pushing weight as Alexander leaps off to join her. “I would like you to finish your story Todd.”

Todd huffs and pats the bed on his other side, shifting himself and Cain enough to give him space. “Thought you might kiddo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's perhaps an educated guess for why Shelia had to leave the country, but I feel it's one supported by some of the things the Joker says in _Death in the Family_ , especially considering Roe v. Wade would have happened around the same time Jason was born.


	4. Chapter 4

Kon’s laying in his room in Smallville wondering if it’s worth it to try and find something to eat or actually wait until lunch when his phone buzzes. Snatching it off his bedside table he smiles when he sees it’s a text from Tim. _Do you have free time?_

 _What’s up?_ Tim’s been kind of distant the past few days, but it’s understandable considering what happened to Bruce.

Tim doesn’t get an answer right away and Kon narrows his eyes at the typing bubbles. _Was hoping you  could come over and hang out._ Probably the truth, but Kon knows Tim well enough that that’s not all. Granted if he pushes Tim’ll just close off, so a more subtle approach is needed.

 _Sure, be there in a few_. Closing his phone he shoves it in his pocket and rushes downstairs. “I’m going to Gotham Ma.”

“Hold on a second,” she calls back from the kitchen. There’s a part of Kon that wants to leave _now_ , it hasn’t been that long since he finally came back to _now_ and there’s still a feeling that if he misses out on something it won’t ever happen again.

Finally though she comes out, sturdy box in hand. “Sure the Waynes would appreciate this.” It’s exactly the right weight to be carrying one of her pies—still cold from the ice box.

“Thanks Ma.” He obligingly bends down so she can kiss his forehead.

“Have a good time Kon, and give that Tim of yours a nice big hug.”

“Maaa.” Kon pretty much fails at fighting off his blush.

She pats his cheek. “I know. Now shoo.”

With a sigh he bursts out the door and into the air. Not bothering to fight off his smile when Krypto joins him. “Nuh uh,” he does his best to point imposingly back at the house. “Stay boy. Gotham’s no place for super dogs.”

Krypto whines and tries to look pitiful. “Stay,” Kon repeats. Giving a doggy sigh Krypto floats down to the porch, curling up in a patch of sunlight. Fairly certain he’s not going to run into any more problems Kon flies east, finding himself eager to get to Gotham.

As it always seems to happen Gotham just _appears_ before him about an hour later—would’ve appeared faster if he hadn’t been carrying the pie with him.

Batman might be dead but Kon still finds himself flying _around_ Gotham instead of through it. Once he reaches the Manor he makes sure there’s no one around to see him before landing in the driveway. The door gets answered only a few seconds after he knocks—Tim’s denied it but Kon’s still pretty sure Alfred has super powers.

“Ah, hello Mr. Kent. Master Tim said you would be arriving.”

He offers up the box. “Ma thought you all might appreciate a pie.”

Alfred’s smile is wan. “The thought is much appreciated indeed.” As he accepts the box a white and brown blur passes between Kon’s legs. Alfred gives a sigh. “If it would not be too much of an imposition I would be most grateful if you went and got that cat, they are not allowed outside.” When did they get cats?

“Sure thing,” Kon answers with a smile. It’s easy enough to follow the cat, scooping it up as it tries to climb a tree. “Hey kitty.” It’s mostly white with a brown sock and matching tail. “A little opportunist I see.” He floats back onto the porch.

“Thank you,” Alfred steps aside and Kon carries the cat inside with him. Only dropping it once Alfred’s closed the door.

A kid with brown skin, black hair, and green eyes appears at the top of the stairs. “Ah. There she is.” He descends the stairs and scoops her up.

“She was attempting to escape again,” Alfred sounds more amused by this than anything.

The kid—first cats and now a kid? Tim had some ‘splaining to do—narrows his eyes at the cat. “Don’t do that Lady Macbeth.” Which only baffles Kon more if he’s honest.

Thankfully Tim appears from one of the side rooms, carrying a sheaf of papers. They, the papers that is, get shoved towards the kid. “Don’t lose these, took me forever to write them up for you and Jason. You lose them you get to redo them.”

“As if I would Drake,” the boy sniffs. Snatching up the papers and keeping hold of the cat at the same time.

A hint of a smile crosses Tim’s face when he turns to Kon. “Hey Kon.”

“I don’t know,” another man’s voice calls out from the library, followed by the man himself. Unlike the kid there’s something familiar about this one. “Maybe we should just keep my status undead, could just start going around calling myself the world’s smartest zombie, that way people know I only want them for their brains.”

It’s such a bad joke that Kon _has_ to laugh, Tim’s expression grows constipated.

“As much as that might amuse you Master Jason I feel the rest of us would prefer you alive.” Alfred answers. “Ah, good afternoon J’onn.”

Right, J’onn’s here pretending to be Bruce and that’s gotta be disturbing on more than a few levels, even considering it’s Gotham. “Alfred,” J’onn inclines his head. Skin shifting from green to white and his features shifting to Bruce’s. “Come on Jason, Damian.” Yep, definitely sends something like a chill down Kon’s spine. “Let’s get this done.”

Proving they’re all Gothamites Kon blinks and they seemingly vanish, except for Alfred who’s calmly walking back towards the kitchen pie in hand, and Tim who’s still standing next to him.

With him and Tim alone now Kon doesn’t hold back, well alright, he wouldn’t have held back if they were in a roomful of people either, sweeping Tim into a tight hug.

“Appreciated,” Tim sounds a little strangled. “Need to breathe though,” his tone’s more teasing than actually out of breath.

Shaking his head Kon lets go. “Blame Ma.” He rubs the back of his neck. “So what the hell was all of that then?” Lady Macbeth—and who the hell named their cat that?—prowls around the two of them. Possibly wondering if they’ll feed her, or make good food. Which is why Kon prefers dogs, they don’t always look like they might try to murder you when you’re not looking.

Tim runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “Well it turns out Jason wasn’t as dead as we thought he was, also Bruce and Talia had a son. It’s been an interesting few days.” No fucking kidding. “But that’s not why I called you here,” an actual _smile_ crosses Tim’s face. “Come on.” He turns and heads upstairs.

Kon’s brain is reeling some, but he still manages to get out. “How you been doing?” Tim’s his best friend after all, and maybe Kon wants more but he also doesn’t want to, ya know, lose _Tim_ , he’s got a right to be worried.

“Thing’s’ve been fine, work’s been work.” It still baffles Kon that Tim considers running a Fortune 500 company _boring_. “Damian’s a brat, and Jason and I have a tact unspoken agreement to avoid each other, so that’s nice.”

“Wait, how did he come back, did he fake his death too?” Stephanie had, after all—and oh Rao does Kon remember how freaked out and tense Tim was for the few days after that.

Tim gives a bark of laughter. “No, he’s not sure how he came back though, but yeah, he’s back. I think Dick pulled him aside and told him about the whole Hush thing, so…” Tim shrugs. Right, that’d been an awful few weeks too. Honestly at this point maybe Kon should kidnap Tim and take him to Hawai’i, give the guy a damn vacation.

“So we’ve been avoiding each other for now and it’s been bearable. Helps that I’ve got finding Bruce to focus on.”

Kon bites his tongue to keep from speaking. After all, if _he_ , and apparently Jason, could come back from the dead why couldn’t Bruce? Except Kon’s sure it’s a lot harder to come back when you’ve been all but disintegrated.

Female laughter trickles in through a door, one which Tim goes to and opens. Hesitant Kon follows, well he’s hesitant until he sees who’s in the room. Beyond Stephanie that is.

Cass.

Who blinks at him before breaking into a broad smile. “Kon!” She leaps at him, and despite being Kryptonian and having at least a hundred pounds on her he still staggers some when she impacts. Her arms and legs wrapping around him and squeezing tight.

He squeezes back just as tight. “Hey Cass,” he sounds choked up, but hell if he cares. “Missed you.”

When she pulls away a little her eyes are watery but her smile’s still broad. “Missed you too. I’m glad you’re not dead.”

“Me too,” he laughs. Turning slightly back towards Tim he narrows his eyes in a playful manner. “This was your plan wasn’t it?” It would be like Tim to just throw them together instead of _telling_ Kon Cass was back. Not that Kon’s _mad_ about that, it’s just Tim’s communication skills need about a million times more work.

“Of course it is,” Stephanie’s voice has a note of teasing in it. Enough that Tim turns a little pink and his heart kicks up a little. Which is why, no matter how much Kon might want it, Tim’s not for him. Kon can be an adult about it though, because Tim’s one of his best friends, and he guesses Stephanie’s alright.

Cass must read something in him, which he’d totally forgotten was a thing and is sure he’ll eventually dislike again, because she gives him another tight squeeze. One that has his TTK responding, squeezing her in kind. She laughs.

Tim just looks at the both of them in askanse for a moment, as if he can’t quite believe they’re friends, or more like he feels Stephanie’s betrayed him in some manner. “Come on Steph, let’s let them have bonding time.”

“Fine,” Stephanie answers with a gusty sigh. “And here I was gonna suggest guys versus girls charades.”

“Why are you like this?” Tim sounds mournful.

Stephanie rolls her eyes as she follows Tim out. “You like me like this Timothy Jackson Drake,” she bumps her shoulder with his. “Don’t try to deny it.” The door closes behind them but that doesn’t mean much when you’ve got super-senses. “Patrol tonight?”

Cass, thankfully distracts him by twisting around him so she’s clinging to his back, chin resting on his shoulder. “When did you come back? How?”

Kon happily throws himself into story sharing time, moving them to the couch she and Stephanie had been on, although as it turns out Cass’ tops his by a country mile—which is saying something considering his has actual time travel and saving the universe.

“Now we’re just trying to settle in, figure out where to go from here.” There’s grief in her voice, enough that he uses his TTK again to hug her. “Still tickles,” he can hear the smile in her voice.

He gives his own soft smile. “You bat people just don’t know how to take a break do you?” He teases, even though he definitely means it.

“Why would I want to break a bone?” Cass tilts her head, clearly trying to play him if the smile in her eyes and the way her body readies for an attack is any indication.

“Oh. It’s on.”

-

After Steph and Tim plan out the night and she has lunch, then she goes and ‘rescues’ Cass from Kon, shoving him in Tim’s general direction—maybe she should try to rope Cass into helping her lock them in a closet or something, honestly the tension between the two of them is _ridiculous_. Also Tim needs about a million reminders that there’s life worth living that doesn’t involve chasing wild geese.

Another thing she can plan with Cass, Steph is clearly going to be the brains of all the operations from now on. It’s a burden she’ll gladly bear.

“Sooo,” the two of them are hanging out in the gym, the Manor one not the Cave one. “If Kon stays for dinner how’re you going to introduce him to Jason?” It’s more teasing than actual curiosity. Honestly Jason probably won’t be all that bothered, but Steph has _priorities_.

From her handstand Cass rolls her eyes and swats a foot at Steph, which she easily dodges. “Kon’s a friend, and anyways Jason and I’re…” she shrugs, which looks kinda weird when she’s upside down, but Steph gets what she means.

“Weird,” Steph supplies, dodging another swat from Cass. Weird works for Cass though. “Anyways,” Steph waves a hand. “Have you thought about what your new identity’s going to be?” Steph can’t wait to go out patrolling with her again, just like old times. It makes her giddy just thinking about it.

Cass smiles as she rolls out of her handstand. “Only a little. Want to...grieve first.”

Now that Steph understands, her and Bruce’s relationship might’ve been...tumultuous at best, but it’d still mattered to her. He’d mattered even more to Cass.

“Well if you need any ideas I’m chock full of them it seems.” She grins.

“Right,” Cass doesn’t sound convinced.

“I am!”

Cass just arches an eyebrow. “You put purple in the suit.” She makes it sound like it’s a person affront. Which is just completely unfair in Steph’s book.

She flicks her hair over her shoulder. “Love you Cass, but not everyone can pull of freaky silent shadow like you can.” It _had_ been impressive, but Steph _needs_ to talk, helped with the nerves and distracted her opponents when she did it right.

“Heh,” Cass beams. “Love you too Steph,” Steph willingly goes into Cass’ hug. Hugging back just as firmly.

Bruce might be dead and Tim still distant but coming back to Gotham was the best decision Steph’s ever made.

-

It’s been a week since Bruce died and Selena feels...strange sitting at a cafe outside in the late September sun, seemingly going about life as if nothing’s changed. Tied to the other chair Lou looks around, garnering about as much attention as his owner is in the cafe itself.

Harley steps out a minute later, broad grin on her face, that bubble tea stuff she liked in one hand and a plate with a muffin on the other. “Lena! They gave me a free muffin! How’s that for ya?” She flops into her seat, and breaks off a chunk of the muffin to feed to Lou. “Gotta say, this going straight thing’s working out better’n I thought.”

“It’s your lucky day,” she agrees.

“I know right?” Harley gushes with her usual enthusiasm. Lou puts his head in Harley’s lap and whimpers, looking about as pitiful as a hyena could. “No more for you Louie,” Harley chides. “You’re getting fat.” She slurps her tea, making a pleased face when she gets one of the bubbles. “Hey Lena, I know you been blue since the Bats died…”

Selina sighs. “Harley, this better not be you setting me up on another blind date.” She’d tried that after the whole Hush fiasco and it’d gone about as well as it could’ve, at the least it’d provided Selina with a good workout.

Harley shakes her head, sending her pigtails swishing back and forth. “Nuh uh, learned my lesson with that one. In my defense I didn’t know he was a serial killer.” It’s hard to be mad at Harley when she’s being so earnest. “Just got something I thought you should know is all.” She slurps her tea again.

“What is it?” Selina might as well just ask. All the better to encourage Harley to be a mostly law abiding citizen of Gotham if nothing else.

“So,” she pops a chunk of muffin in her mouth, talking between bites. “I was talkin’ with Eddie the other day and he says to me, he says ‘Harl you won’t believe it but I faced off against Batman, just the other day!’”

For a second Selina’s heart stills, then begins racing. “Bullshit.” As much as she wants it to be true it can’t be. Unless one of the birds decided to take on Gotham, and that just wasn’t the same.

“That’s what I said! ‘Eddie you’re full of shit.’ But he swore up and down, said he’s gonna go as legit as me! Said his goons shot at him and, woosh,” she swings her hand up in emphasis. “The bullets went right through him! Like he’s a ghost!” She drinks more of her tea. “So now I gotta know more right? Is he right or did he just get some contact high from hanging out with Crane at the funeral? So I start asking around all nice like, ‘anyone else think they’ve gone up against Batsy’s ghost?’ I had to be extra nice to some of them because they got all tough like,” her smile suggests the opposite and Selina doesn’t exactly feel bad for any crook who got on Harley’s bad side.

“And you know what most of ‘em said Lena? They said the same thing! Bullets go right through, you try to hit him and it does nothing! Silent as the grave! Some of ‘em even said that they got beat up by Robin too.” She scrunches her face. “Not so sure about that one, though Mista J did get one of them didn’t he?” She shrugs. “Maybe if it _is_ Batsy’s ghost he brought the dead one back with ‘im.” Reaching down she scratches behind Lou’s ear. “Just thought you should know. Maybe you can still yell at ‘im, not sure how much good it’ll do if he’s dead and all, but worth a shot right?”

Even through the ache Selina manages a wan smile. “Thanks for telling me Harl.” She means it well after all, and certainly didn’t have to go through all the trouble just for Selina. “I’m not sure though.” Selina feels stuck, Catwoman no longer having the same lure it used to and a settling urge to _stay_ in Gotham. The cure for both was usually a trip to Europe, or China, Saudi Arabia maybe. Someplace where money was thick and ripe for the picking, and just wait for the perfect opportunity that would make her body rush.

But it just wouldn’t be the same, and she hates that fact so much. That she’d let Bruce worm his way into her heart, only for him to go and die on her. Maybe yelling at his supposed ghost _would_ be therapeutic.

“No problem Lena. Us girls gotta stick together after all.”

Yes, yes they do.

Later that night, despite all her conflicting thoughts she finds herself donning her suit, breathing deep as the smell of leather surrounds her. It’s easy to climb out her window and onto the rooftops, feel the wind rushing around her as she makes her way towards the Hillman Gallery.

Before he’d died but after they’d...broken up, she’d planned on robbing this place. Not because any particular piece interested her, but because she knew it would attract his attention, _make_ him chase her instead of avoid her like he had. Give her the chance to speak her mind on all manner of subjects.

It’s won’t exactly have the same end result, but she’s certain it will still draw his attention.

Cutting the security systems is easy, and as she lowers herself through the skylight she finds herself lacking in her usual thrills. That sorted it then, she sighed, she clearly needed to retire and spend the rest of her golden years on a sunny beach somewhere, with no greater worry than what she was going to have for dinner.

She makes her way deeper into the gallery, eyes roving over the art and statuary. She takes a few steps closer to a Hillman original. Her uses of reds is far too jarring for Selina’s tastes, but they go for a pretty penny. She stretches her hand, readying her claws to cut it from the frame when there’s a whisper behind her.

Whirling around she just catches sight of a dark gray cape vanishing into the shadows. It’s easy ignoring the art and chase after, intent on knowing the truth.

When she reaches the main atrium again there’s no one there, but her rope is moving as if someone just used it to climb up. Not very ghost-like behavior. She follows, pulling the rope up behind her as she goes.

He’s standing at the edge of the building, cape fluttering in the wind.

She can see why people think he’s a ghost, the uniform all in grays and dark blues, easier to blend in and escape notice, the bat on his chest is nearly invisible. Even what little skin she can see is gray. Cautiously she steps closer, her breath caught in her throat. “Bruce?”

The lower half of his face remains expressionless, until he gives one small shake of his head. He raises a finger to his lips.

“I won’t tell.” She wonders which one of the ‘family’ it is. Or perhaps it’s someone new.

Lips quirk into the barest hint of a smile. Then without looking behind him Batman steps off the edge of the building.

By the time she reaches the edge and stares down he’s vanished. Choked laughter leaves her, whoever it was certainly had the disappearing down.


	5. Chapter 5

Jason gives a soft groan as he steps into the Cave—the second time Damian’d gone out he’d complained about walking back into the Cave instead of taking the batmobile. Jason gets what he’s going for, but ghosts don’t exactly use cars. He leans against a handy stalagmite for a few seconds to catch his breath and settle himself.

He almost wishes the rest of the night had been as easy as dealing with Catwoman, although he’s not sure if telling her will come back to bite him or Cass in the ass later. He’s been reading up on Bruce’s files though, and perhaps she more than anyone deserved to know.

Pushing the cowl off his head and smearing the gray greasepaint, he continues on into the Cave proper. Only to come up short when he finds the computer on. Well alright that’s nothing new, it’s that the person in the chair isn’t Damian or Cass as expected.

It’s Tim.

On instinct Jason freezes, except that aggravates the bruises he’d gotten the other night and he hisses in pain.

Tim whips around, his eyes widening in surprise. He recovers pretty perfectly though, not even sounding taken aback when he speaks. “I’m pretty sure I recall Bruce saying none of us should become Batman.”

Running a hand through his hair—Jason’s not sure sure he likes the gauntlets, but he _does_ like how bullet proof the suit’s become—he sighs. It was bound to happen eventually that someone found out. He gets closer to Tim, kind of relieved he doesn’t start getting nervous. While he’s glad knowing the whole Hush thing means he knows that Talia’s fine, it did make him wonder if any person he thought of as a parental figure _wasn’t_ fucked up in some fashion. Also if he crosses paths with her there’s definitely going to be yelling involved. “Well first off Bruce was definitely on something if he thought any of us were going to actually listen to him.”

It’s probably Cass’ influence that he’s pleased when Tim snorts. “Second if the crooks want to call me Batman that’s their deal, not mine. I, personally, have never called myself that.” So far he and Cass have settled on ‘Ghost’ perhaps not the most imaginative of names, but it suited their purposes. “Three, it was Cass’ idea and if you’re gonna get mad at me for going out than you’d better get ready to be mad at her too since we swap.”

The chair creaks slightly as he leans against the back of it. “Pretty sure she’s gonna be angry right back at you though, you should be asleep.” On the screen of the computer is a cave painting of a bat.

“Didn’t know you cared,” well Tim’s definitely got vicious sarcasm down.

Jason bites back another sigh, honestly their first real conversation could be going much worse than it is. “Let’s just file that under ‘we’re both emotionally fucked up and would rather avoid our problems for the most part’ and move on from there.” Jason feels he’s been very mature giving Tim space, granted it’d also been for his own benefit.

Tim stops bothering trying to contort himself to look at Jason, instead slumping into the chair. He doesn’t actually say anything, and Jason’s not going to bother trying to figure out if it’s a silence of agreement or refusal.

“What’re you working on anyways?” Supposedly Tim’s got his own little hideaway, so he really shouldn’t need to come to the Cave to do whatever it is he’s doing.

Tim seems grateful for the subject change. “That file Cass got for me from the League,” he answers. “Did you know the Miagani tribes worshiped bats?” Tim continues before Jason can even think to answer. “Supposedly it’s because they found these paintings in the cave systems when they got here.” He gestures at the screen. “The quake destroyed them sadly, and sparked off this whole archaeological debate on whether or not cave paintings should be moved in a better effort to preserve them.”

“Uh-huh,” Jason’s sure it’s _very_ riveting, but there are even things his knowledge hungry ass finds boring.

Tim waves a hand. “Anyways, the paintings were somehow here even though no one’d settled, ergo they must be signs from spirits. Or at least _someone_ who wanted to leave a trail. It look familiar?”

Sure it looks something like the bat symbol but... “I mean there’s only so many ways you can stylize a bat,” not that Jason doesn't believe Tim, but he’s sure as hell gonna hedge. He doesn’t know which way to think and right now he needs to focus on _here_ , not on maybes.

“I know, but Bruce’s has always had seven points instead of eight, and the curve is far too close to be coincidence.” It feels like Tim’s grasping at straws, but Jason knows a thing or two about obsession. Sometimes you had to just run it down until the both of you were exhausted.

“Okay, so why the hell did _Ra’s_ have this?” True he’d been obsessed with making Bruce his heir, but finding old cave paintings seemed weird even by his standards.

“I’m not even going to try and posit that, for all I know Ra’s was going senile and just decided to collect every historical mention of bat creatures.” He presses a button and the picture changes to an old woodcut. In it a woman burns at the stake, and a few horrified villagers look on as as a monstrous bat creature leaps out of the smoke. “I actually already knew this one, but I didn’t realize there was a connection to what’s happened to Bruce until now.”

“And what’s this one?” Jason’s got a good guess as to the period, but beyond that he’s clueless.

Tim tilts his head up enough to look at him in askance. “I’d’ve thought you’d know all Wayne family history.”

Jason arches an eyebrow. “What gave you that idea? I mean how do _you_ know it?” Sure Jason’d read _The Crucible_ and a few other books about the Salem Witch Trials, but he doesn’t recall any mentions of bat-demons, he’s pretty sure he’d remember that.

“I know it because after I found out Bruce was Batman I got curious about the rest of the Waynes. There’s a surprising amount of bats in the belfry as it were, on both sides of the family actually.” Okay, that’s a pretty good one. “She’s not the Wayne though, she’s cursing one. Supposedly a giant bat jumped out of the smoke and made sure the curse kept.”

“No wonder we’re all fucked up. When Dick gets back from packing up we should have him call Zatanna, maybe she can fix it.”

Tim snorts. “Bit late for that I think.”

“So what you think Bruce is time traveling?” That’s a pretty big stretch even for a world where the dead could actually come back to life, even if Booster Gold was a thing.

“The most likely possibility,” Tim agrees. “I just need to find the thread and try to figure out how to get Bruce _here_.”

Jason bites his tongue on that one, deciding not to point out Tim himself had suggested earlier Ra’s might not’ve been thinking straight when he’d put this file together. Just let Tim do it, let him run it to the ground until he was certain one way or the other if Bruce was really still alive or not. “Okay, but pretty sure not even Bruce can stop Cass giving you that disappointed look she does.”

“Please,” Tim snorts. “I lived with her for a  year in Bludhaven, the disappointed look does nothing to me anymore.”

-

Damian clings to the top of the subway car as it barrels out of the tunnel and into Gotham’s night air. On the car in front of him Todd and Cain are moving from crouches to standing. Damian follows suit, hopping the gap between cars.

“Our stop,” Todd points at a water tower getting closer by the second.

A thrill rushes down Damian’s spin as he looses his grappling gun and he follows them into the air. He might not technically be Robin, but with no Batman this is just as good. He lets out a soft grunt as the water tower struts break his swing, but they’re alone so it’s fine. Even if his scramble up the rest of the tower looks somewhat laughable. “What’s the target tonight?” If they have one that is.

Over the comms he hears Drake’s pained sigh. “Penguin,” he answers for Todd and Cain. “Also I’m still against this whole thing.”

“Then go to sleep,” Cain sniffs. Damian doesn’t know quite what happened between them, but it’d ended with Drake over Cain’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes muttering about pots and kettles while she carried him up to the bedrooms.

Another sigh. “Not with the LIDAR running I’m not. I need to know in real time if it finds anything in the collapsed caves. Penguin’s mook’s are running guns, so they’ll have a lot to work with. Be careful.”

“It’s like you don’t even know us Red Robin,” Todd answers with a grin.

“Right now I wish I didn’t.” Damian rolls his eyes, why were all the adopted children so dramatic?

Cain’s smiling as she launches her grappling gun again, swinging closer to the warehouse in question. Todd jerks his head towards her, Damian nods and follows after. When he lands next to her she points at a high window and makes a circle, then gestures to the far side and makes a circle in the opposite direction. Silence is key now after all, couldn’t have the criminals discovering they _weren’t_ ghosts.

He nods and makes his way to the first window. Penguin needs to take better care of his places, because the window’s already been broken, making it a breeze it slip inside. Below men and a few women work, packing away guns and moving the boxes into shipping crates. Only a few of them were actually standing guard, and not very well at that—most of them were focused in, not out, and they’d let one of the workers play _music_. Honestly.

Cain meets up with him when they’ve finished their sweep. “Ready?” Todd’s voice is a whisper in their ears.

“Let’s do this,” Damian whispers back. It will be child’s play, but even that’s better than nothing.

He spots Todd slip in through the same window he had, and moments later he drops to the floor. Right in the middle of everyone. There’s a perfect moment of shocked silence, broken only by the jangly country music, then chaos breaks out.

Damian drops down before Cain can, throwing himself into the fray. A self-assured smirk on his face as he takes down the goons around him. Satisfaction filling him as he does what he’s been trained to do.

-

While Cass enjoys going out with Jason, or Damian, or both, she also enjoys the solo nights. Just her, Gotham, and the cool night air. It’s soothing being out, making a difference again, even if it’s only as a ghost.

She perches atop Wayne Tower, surveying, seeing if anything jumps out at her. She doesn’t even have Tim on comms tonight, having run himself out doing cave excavation. Supposedly the LIDAR had turned up wood and canvas and Tim’d been beyond excited.

Cass’ seen the worried looks Dick, Alfred, and Steph give Tim when he starts on about what he’s found. Damian and Jason meanwhile seem more than willing to encourage him. She understands Damian’s reasoning, yet Jason she knows is more complex. He’d confided he was sure Bruce was dead, but that trying to stop Tim would only push him deeper. Letting it run its course was the best option.

As for herself, she doesn’t know what to think. She knows what she _wants_ , but want rarely has anything to do with reality. To have Bruce be alive though would be...would be nice.

Sighing she gives herself a shake. Gotham doesn’t seem that interested in shouting it’s problems tonight, so she’d need to get closer, see what it whispered.

Sprinting across rooftops a dark shape catches her eye. Slowing she turns to see it’s someone standing on a rooftop’s edge. A jumper? The usually used the bridges, but there were enough high buildings with roof access to make it a possibility. If that were the case not talking will be something of a hindrance, but as long as she’s careful she should be able to help them.

Carefully she gets closer, not exactly trying to hide her approach in case she spooks them. When she gets close enough to make out more though…

It’s hard to keep from gritting her teeth at the sight of Lady Shiva standing proud and tall as she lords herself over Gotham. Still not bothering to hide her approach Cass steps up next to her. “What do you want?” It means breaking the rule, but the sooner she deals with Shiva the better. Having her in Gotham for too long will not end well.

“No hello for your mother, dear?” Shiva turns slightly, a smirk on her lips. “It’s been so long since we last saw each other after all.”

Cass is sure her whole body radiates displeasure. “Why are you here?” Her voice is tighter, as is her body, she doesn’t bother to try and hide either, Shiva would likely spot it anyways. Her skills at reading a person were far better still than Cass’ own, and Slade had never deigned to give up his secret for hiding his intentions.

Shiva tilts her head. “A little curiosity, a warning perhaps. Your employee drew too much attention to herself with that break in the other week, easy enough to trace the data back to you here.” Fear flashes through Cass. “Oh don’t worry, I don’t know where she is _now_. She was that smart to drop off the face of the earth after sending you that e-mail. What could be so important I wonder, that you stepped back into the light?”

“Not your business,” Cass crosses her arms. “Are you threatening me?”

Laughter. “Oh my dear girl, you would know. You should know that by now.”

She does, but it also gives her a chance to breathe, re-asses the situation, she can’t plan but she can consider her options. “So what?”

“Can’t a mother-”

“No,” Cass interrupts. “You might have given birth to me but that does _not_ give you the right to call yourself my mother,” it’s not quite anger in her voice, but it’s the best word she can think for it. She might still have her rages from the leftovers of the drugs she’d been on, but they’re more contained now. Smaller. Easier to let out in controlled ways, like now. “We’re bound by blood, but nothing more.”

“The blood of the covenant thicker than the water of the womb then?” Shiva arches an eyebrow. “I guess you have the right of it though, I was all too happy to hand you over to David after I’d pushed you out.” She gives another smirk, but this one is far more sly than the last one. “You know that paramour of yours once thought me his mother too,” she snorts. “Perhaps I should have looked harder, Talia saw potential enough in him to take him under her wing. If I had told the ‘truth’ perhaps I could have been the one to mold him. Turn him into something better than he is, or was.”

The way she says it makes Cass suspect she’s trying to get another rise out of Cass. But she already knew that from Jason himself. In fact she laughs. “He said he was relieved you weren’t his mother,” she responds. “I don’t think it would have worked as well as you thought.” Shiva could manipulate, but not as well as Talia could, and Talia had had a decade of Batman’s life to work with in shaping Jason, time Shiva definitely wouldn’t have had if she’d tried to get him as a teenager.

Shiva turns fully, her body relaxed and ready. “Well, I did not come here to reminisce,” Cass is sure she didn’t. Her attempt at manipulation quite obvious after the fact. “I was curious about the whispers of Batman’s ghost, but now I see they’re only a child playing dress up. Be that as it may you still owe me a fight Cassandra.”

“No,” Cass repeats. “I owe you nothing. We fought you won, we fought I won. You claim I’m the only person strong enough to stop you Sandra Wu-san, but while I know why you should be stopped I don’t see why I should cater to _your_ death wish.” It feels strange to be on the other side of that, recalling what a slap in the face it had been to hear Shiva say those words the first time they fought.

Not that it hadn’t been true, Cass knows all too well despite the good she felt she was doing she’d wanted to die, it’d taken her a while to realize that living was a far better way to atone for what she’d done than dying ever would be.

Shiva, she thinks, wants to die for a whole other reason. “I might stop you, and I will if you ever hurt anyone in Gotham, but it won’t ever be the ‘stop’ you want Shiva.” She turns and leaves before Shiva can even start to respond.

Despite the urge to go home, to let Jason hold her and give soothing lies, she keeps going until nearly 3 AM.

After she showers in the Cave she creeps up into the Manor—taking extra care when she hears Alfred bustling about in the kitchen—and into her and Jason’s bedroom. Opening the door she gives a small smile.

Jason’s sprawled out on the bed, soft snores filling the place. Stripping off her clothes she climbs into bed with him, curling around him tightly.

It’s not quite an emptiness that fills her now as she dwells on the conversation she’d had with Shiva. But for almost five years that conflict with her has ever been present in Cass’ life, even if only as background. To try and make herself let it go is _hard_ , for all that she knows it will do better as the past.

Sleep doesn’t come at all.


	6. Chapter 6

There is perhaps an irony to the fact that her Beloved did not die by her hands as Talia had intended, but by the hands of a would-be god who cared nothing for him. Fate and death both ever fickle and cruel.

If there had been a body she could have stolen it away—used those moments of madness to mold him into a man worthy of being her consort—but not even the Pits could revive ash and scraps. So she was left in a world she wished was not so, with her Beloved dead and her son…

She lowered her binoculars. Her son seemingly living the life he’d always wanted, if sans his father. She knew it was Jason and the Cain girl who’d taken up Bruce’s cape, and didn’t know whether to laugh or curse that yet another of her carefully laid plans had been turned awry. She’d thought the web she’d made for Jason inescapable, yet here he was keeping to the code of the man he’d sworn to kill. From what the bugs her people had planted in the Manor had managed to pick up he even seemed to have a tenuous relationship starting with Drake.

Who seemed to think her Beloved was _not_ dead, and had stolen one of her father’s old files to prove it. Or at least had the Cain girl’s people do it for him. His tenacity and intelligence were...promising, even blinded by grief as he was.

Her grip on the binoculars tightened, perhaps it was not _her_ that was the problem, but the Cain girl. Everything she seemed to involve herself in ended up going in ways few could expect. She should never have entertained Jason’s pleas to met with the girl, look where it had led. The League in even more shambles than it had been, and her son turning _soft_.

With a heavy heart—Damian didn’t deserve to have this happen to him, but there was no choice—she pulled out her phone and dialed a number. “I believe the one you’re looking for is in Gotham, I’d almost wonder that you were blind considering how out in the open she is.” She hangs up.

Putting the binoculars away she climbs down from the roof and goes in search of a hotel. Damian might not have given her a choice, but she can be there to pick up the pieces when it’s done. Help make sure he comes out of it stronger than before.

-

It’s been well over a month now, but Dick finds that whenever he goes out on patrol the grief returns, not as strong as before, but it’s presence is hard to miss. Sure he loved Gotham as much as the rest of his family, but it had always been _Bruce’s_ city first and foremost in Dick’s mind. Batman is a void that can never be filled.

Tim’s bo staff whaps him on the ass. “Nightwing,” his little brother’s tone is endlessly patient. “Focus please.”

Dick rolls his eyes and resists the urge to give Tim a noogie. Contenting himself that he managed to convince Tim to come _out_ for a change instead of letting him moulder in the Cave chasing ghosts. “Whatever you say Red Robin,” he grins. He turns his attention back to Scareface’s goons, who look more squirrelly than usual, sending nervous glances at every shadow they come across; as if they’re afraid of something other than their boss.

“Scarface’s been laying low as far as I can tell, but I’m hoping us breaking up a few of his deals will pull him out of the woodwork.” Tim brings up his little computer and frowns at it. Dick honestly doesn’t care, so long as Tim’s _here_.

It actually makes him wish Jason were with them, although the fact he and Tim seemed to have built something of a bridge while Dick was away is something of a relief in and of itself. Jason still seems torn on the whole hero thing though—although Dick’s seen him down in the Cave using the shooting range more than a few times. Jason's been cagey about what exactly he was up to those five years he was with the League, but Dick's sure it was nothing good considering how good he is with those guns.

With a little shake he refocuses himself. “Well too bad for them I’m all out of bubble gum then,” his grin returns with a vengeance.

Tim hisses out a sigh. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t!” Dick darts in and kisses Tim’s cheek before launching himself off the roof and towards the next one. As he comes out of his roll he flicks his comm on, hopping to his feet and jogging towards the roof access.

Scarface is getting cocky, not even a lock on the door. Not that Dick’s gonna complain, it’s kinda more fun when they’re cocky. Makes it better when they ended up bruised, battered, and ready for police pickup. He ghosts along the catwalks above the goons, making notes of patrol patterns. “Red your left,” he murmurs when one guard’s patrol takes him too far away from his fellows.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tim almost sounds bored. Over the comms Dick can just barely hear the sounds of a brief struggle followed by a soft _thwack_. “He’s down. Moving in closer.”

While sneaking around and knocking out everybody might be better in the long run something in Dick is longing for a good fight. “Heading down,” he’ll be nice enough to warn Tim at least. With ease he vaults over the catwalk railing, he fall helpfully broken by another goon, who goes down with a grunt. “Hey guys. I heard there was a sale on Girl Scout cookies, hope you have Tagalongs.”

The goons stare for a moment, then almost seem to _relax_ , which okay, weird even for Gotham. He’s even pretty sure he hears one guy mutter something about being glad it’s Nightwing and not the damn ghost. Not that Dick has much time to dwell on it when they all charge him.

Red Robin soon joins in and they make quick work of everyone. Tying up the last of them he joins Tim in looking over what they were trying to smuggle out of Gotham. “Damn, was really hoping for cookies,” Dick says as they look over the piles of semtex and C4.

“You’re always hoping for snacks,” Tim snarks back. “Least it’s all stable explosives.” He brings up his computer again, likely sending something to the GCPD. “Come on, still got a few hours until dawn.” He grapples himself up onto the catwalks.

Nightwing follows, holding his questions until they’re out on the rooftops again. “I’m pretty sure I heard one of the goons talking about a ghost. Know anything about it?”

Tim shrugs as they hop from a building onto a westbound train. “Bruce always says they’re a superstitious, cowardly lot and they all think he’s dead. Maybe they decided to get into the Halloween spirit and spread the rumor that Batman’s ghost is haunting Gotham.” There’s something almost practiced about the way he says that.

“I hope you’re not doing anything reckless Tim,” bad enough he’s been excavating some of the collapsed caves near the Manor. Going out as Batman after Bruce told them not to definitely seems like biting off more than he can chew.

“I’m not Dick,” Tim answers. He’s probably even telling the truth—Dick knows all of Tim’s tells pretty well by now, harder to make out most of them when he’s in the suit though.

The idea’s settled in Dick’s brain now on the other hand. “Come on,” he pulls out his grappling gun. “I wanna look into this more. If it’s someone new than we need to warn them about what they’re getting into.” Whomever it is might mean well, but Gotham won’t exactly thinks so once they realize it’s just a man and not something supernatural.

Tim’s exasperated sigh can just be heard over the rattle of the tracks.

-

Honestly Tim would rather be with Kon and Steph when they were being…weird at each other than hanging out with Dick on Harley’s fire escape.

Also Cass and Jason owe him _so much_ for this, because it’d take more work than Tim really wanted to put into it to convince Dick that Harley would be the right person to ask. After all she’d have only  looked into it far enough to satisfy her own strange brand of curiosity, no further. There’d even been a heart pounding moment where all of Tim’s work seemed for naught and Dick was gonna go with asking Eddie—who’s probably even now still obsessing about in that way of his.

 _So much_ , they’re gonna have to…Tim doesn’t know yet, but he’s sure he’ll come up with a suitable equivalent on the way back to the Cave.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Tim knocks on the window with his staff. If Harley’s here at all she’ll answer. He does find himself hoping she’s here and not with Ivy, because that’s a whole other headache then to try and talk to her.

A hyena’s head pops up from the bottom of the sill, tongue lolling out dog like; the collar’s green so it’s Bud not Lou. Harley soon appears, her face scrunching up when she sees the both of them. Still, she opens her window, so that’s something.

“If ya birdbrains looking for Mista J I don’t know nothing, not even interested. Done with the rat bastard for good this time.” Tim sure as hell hopes so.

Dick’s all charming smiles. “We’re actually here about something else Harley. Was hoping you might know something about a ghost?”

Harley actually _brightens_. “Oh is that all. Never met him myself yet, considering I’m an honest citizen now,” she puts her hand over her heart. “But I’ll tell you what I told Lena.” Aw crap, you’d think Tim’d remember stuff like the fact that Selina was buddy-buddy with Harley and Ivy, and that _of course_ if there were rumors of a ghost Harley would try to be a good friend for Selina and find out if they were real or not. “People swear up and down he’s real, even heard recently that some of the civvies who bump up against the underworld are puttin’ up shrines for him, trying to draw his attention.

“Bad guys not so much ya understand, but they’re plenty scared of him.” She shrugs. “Him and that dead Robin.”

 _That_ makes Dick’s eyes narrow, which of course it does because Jason’s not actually _dead_. “Anyone describe him?”

Harley snorts and rolls her eyes. “He looks like a ghost, duh.” She crosses her arms. “Got any other questions? ‘Cause I gots to have my beauty sleep,” she fluffs her bedraggled hair. “Nice though that you came here about somethin’ other than Mista J.”

“No Harley, I think we’re done here,” Dick’s smile softens. “Thanks for talking with us.”

“Course I’d talk to ya, I ain’t _rude_.” With that she closes the window and pulls the curtains.

“Happy?” Tim finds himself asking as they scale the fire escape to the roof.

Dick’s frowning again when Tim sees his face. “No, I’m definitely not happy.” Tim really should have guessed. “How many people know it’s Robin that died way back then?”

Right. _That’s_ gonna be harder to come up with an excuse for. Tim’s smart but he doesn’t think he can manage that one well enough. At this rate he’s gonna be owed a plane or something.

Before he can even try to think of a good enough excuse on the other hand shots ring out.

Shots aimed at _them_ as it turns out, thank to the fact one of them hits Tim in the arm. He and Dick go scrambling for cover.

“Scarface?” Tim hisses out as he injects a local anesthetic and bandages the wound—it’s a through and through at least. Concern flashes across Dick’s face, but it disappears into resolve. “Shots came from the east.” Had to to hit him the way they did.

Dick nods and shoots his head out from their cover, managing to duck in just before more shots rang out. “Just one shooter,” Dick pants out. “Too tall to be one of Scarface’s handlers.”

Great. Bringing up his screen Tim sends out a message. Looks like Dick’s gonna find out about Ghost sooner rather than later.


	7. Chapter 7

Jason’s only been thrown out of bed by Cass once before, and then she’d been on the front end of a rage, this time there’s no anger in her expression or her body, only worry. “We’re going.”

Pulling himself up off the floor he frowns, following her out as she rushes downstairs, only to nearly run into her halfway down. “Get Damian, meet me in the Cave.”

Jason should probably be asking _why_ , but he recognizes Cass’ controlled panic now. Talking isn’t _pointless_ , but it will only make things take longer than they should. So he turns around and goes to Damian’s room.

The door’s open, and he nudges Luci aside before pushing open far enough for him to stick his head in and knock on the frame. “Damian, we need to go.” For a change there’s a child-like grumble from the bed. “Come on kiddo, up and at ‘em. We’re going out.” That’ll wake Damian up faster at least. So far he hadn’t passed up a chance to be Robin when offered.

Damian’s rubbing sleep out of his eyes as they head down towards the Cave. “What is it?”

“I don’t know,” Jason answers with a shrug. “It’s freaked Cass out though.” Damian’ll probably get revenge on it later, but Jason still chivvies him along, this needs to be done quick.

Cass is already in her suit and warming up the Batplane, which just goes to show that this is something big. “What is so important,” Jason’s almost glad it’s Damian and not him asking the question, “that you had to wake us up?”

“Tim and Dick are in trouble, they need our help.”

Damian’s mouth opens to protest as he pulls on his gloves, but Jason shoots him a look before grabbing his own cowl and heading out of the locker room. Cass is in the plane now, clearly impatient. Climbing in and putting the cowl on at the same time takes skill, but Jason’s up for the challenge. “Dick’s gonna be mad.”

“I don’t care,” Cass’ tone is clipped. “Buckle up,” she tells him and Damian. She barely waits for the cockpit to close before she’s punching the engines and they’re roaring out of the Cave. Jason would find it exhilarating if not for the circumstances.

Cass thankfully seems to know where she’s going as they head south and west. She pushes a button and he hears a faint _ping_. “Red Robin, one minute away. Ready for cover.”

Jason counts down in his head, behind him he can practically feel Damian vibrate with energy.

Another button is pushed and Jason can just barely see a gaseous cloud drop from the plane. “Let’s go.” She puts the plane on autopilot and seems to vanish as the hatch opens.

He finds himself shaking his head with a fond smile. “Come on Damian, let’s ride in and save the day.” Then he too is up and throwing himself over the side. He just barely hears Damian’s snort as he hits the roof. “Bat? Red Robin? Nightwing?” He keeps his voice quiet, this isn’t exactly the usual outing so normal rules hardly seem to apply.

The cloud’s beginning to dissipate as ‘Robin’ lands next to him. “Over here,” comes Tim’s reply. He’s following the sound of Tim’s voice when he hears another impact on the roof, one far too heavy to have been Cass.

As the last of the cloud vanishes he sees Cass crouched next to Tim and Dick, and there, only a few feet away is Deathstroke.

Of fucking course.

-

Cass rises slowly. Dick’s body radiates surprise and hurt. Tim also shows hurt, physical hurt on the other hand, but other than the gunshot he seems to be fine. She sets the two of them aside for now in her mind however, the important thing is Slade.

Shiva’s warning had been correct then, if she could find them than others would too. And Slade wanted to get her for all the plans of his she’d ruined after all. Cass bares her teeth in a smile and shifts her center of gravity. “Come get it.”

A quick, dirty fight might be what she wants, but Slade has all the dramatic trappings of almost anyone else in Gotham’s rogues gallery. Which means he unsheathes his sword with ridiculous slowness. “Cassandra,” his smooth voice is contrasted by the chaos his body throws off. “I think it’s high time you paid for what you did.”

Rolling her eyes she charges. Using the fins on the gauntlets she parries his strike and goes in for a punch to the solar plexus.

She just barely lands the hit, not enough to even wind him, before he twists out of the way. His sword cutting through air sounds behind her and she can see a leg coming towards her. Dropping to dodge both she sweeps out her leg to try and get his other leg.

He jumps at the last second, legs shifting enough that they almost land on her. The only thing that stops that from happening is an angry shout and Damian launching himself at Slade, sending the both of them flying. Cass rolls herself into an upright position quickly.

Just in time to see Slade throw Damian across the roof. “Foolish boy.” He heaves himself up, crouched and ready. “This ends tonight Cassandra. You’ll pay for what you did.”

That isn’t even worth an eye roll. She lowers her own stance again and twitches her fingers, _come at me_. He’s right that this ends tonight, but not by him.

This time he’s the one that rushes towards her, perhaps overconfident that he can hide his intentions from her. Which he can, but that doesn’t mean she can’t win this fight. She’s Batman after all.

Engagement. She barely manages to twist out of the way of a knee to the stomach, biting back a grunt when the hilt of his sword hits her shoulder, dislocation a far brighter flash of pain. She retreats, even though he follows she gets enough of a breather to pop her shoulder back in, adrenaline covering the pain this time.

She manages to stomp on his foot, her own knee flying up to hit him the groin. As he recoils she pushes her advantage, getting him again in the solar plexus and also the chin. He stumbles forward instead of back and she dances out of the way to not get squashed by him.

He holds his sword out, breathing heavily as he circles her. As they move she sees Jason start to step in.

“Hey asshole,” it’s almost comical how fast Slade spins around. “Pick on somebody your own size.” There’s a crunch as Jason’s fist hits Slade’s nose, breaking it.

With his back to her she strikes again, kidneys, his sword arm, back of the neck. His sword clatters to the ground and he stumbles again, this time Jason catches him with a easy twist moving to pin both of Slade’s arms behind him.

“Did you really?” He didn’t have to be so cliche about it at least.

Jason’s grin is unrepentant.

Crossing her arms Cass stares up at Slade. “I think this time you’re going to be in prison for quite a while.” A strike to the temple and he’s out cold. Jason trusses him up like a turkey and Cass lets herself breath, start to come down from the fight.

“What. The. Hell?” At Dick’s voice her heart rate jumps again, trying to convince her the danger’s not done with.

Except it is, Dick isn’t dangerous. He’s just going to be very...frustrating to deal with.

Compared to Slade though it’ll be almost a breath of fresh air.

-

“...he didn’t want us to be Batman, yet apparently you’re fine with just ignoring that?” Damian will give Grayson this, he’s managed to not once mention a real name in his tirade. Damian also knows that while he should be included in this upbraiding, all of Grayson’s attention is on Todd and Cain.

Cain looks still, although Damian knows well enough that that doesn’t mean she’s _calm_ , Todd however looks like he might just punch Grayson and damn the consequences. Part of Damian hopes for that, the rest of him, strangely, wishes they weren’t fighting at all. Perhaps he should check up on Drake, who looks fine, but had clearly been injured before they got there.

“Well maybe he was _wrong_ Nightwing,” Todd snaps.

Damian sighs as the argument rages around him. Stepping around them he heads towards Drake, only to see someone else standing on the roof next to this one. The moonlight shines off brown hair and a leather jacket and Damian’s heart leaps into his throat. _Mother_.

No contest there where he goes then. Easy enough to slip away from the others with their attention all on each other. She turns as he approaches, her expression shadowed some, but he can tell she’s happy to see him. “Mother.”

She crouches, smile on her face. “Damian, _habibi_ ,” normally he would protest the pet name, but he’s far to relieved to see her alive and well. She slips off one of her gloves and warm, soft fingers cup his cheek. “I’m so glad you’re well.” There’s a stiffness in her voice, one that has something in the back of his mind frowning. “Come,” her hand slips away as she stands. “It is time you returned to me and rejoined the League.”

Yes she’s right… Yet he still finds his head turning back to the other rooftop, even from here he can hear their angry voices, make out most of the words even. “Mother...what about…” They’re his ‘family’ after all, his father’s legacy.

Talia sighs. “Damian you are not a child, your talents would be better served in the League. I know I’ve put it off, but perhaps it’s time for you to do your Year of Blood and become my heir in truth. You think you love them, but you should know that’s only a foolish delusion.”

“You love father though,” he _knows_ she does.

She turns from him, but he can still make out the way her shoulders sag. “Yes, I loved your father. In return he gave me nothing more than heartache and frustration. You are the only good thing I ever got from him.” And father had never even known.

“Don’t you love me?” It escapes before he can think to stop it. He wishes he could take it back, mother is right he’s _not_ a child, for all that he’s in a child’s body still, so why does he sound like one now? It is beneath him, yet...is he _wrong_ to wonder such things? Mother would say he was, but what of father? Father who’d talked of loving his children and giving them gifts that showed he understood what they needed now that he wasn’t there for them.

Cain and Todd would say mother was wrong.

“Damian,” mother’s voice is almost sharp. “I know these last few months have been trying on you. So I will be understanding and pretend that you never asked that. Come, there’s a ship waiting for us in the harbor.”

That should be exactly what he wants, yet now that he’s asked it and she’s refused to answer… He steps away from her. “Mother, please answer the question.” He tries to keep his voice reasonable.

Finally she turns back around, there’s a smile on her face but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’re my son Damian, how can I not love you?” She holds out her hand. “You’re confused _habibi_ , now you see why I was hesitant to send you to your father while he was still alive. But don’t worry, come back with me and everything will be as it should.”

He steps away again. The wind picks up and he can feel the edges of the cap pressing against his legs. It might not be the true Robin suit, but that doesn’t change that he _is_ Robin. Even if Todd and Cain are convinced to give up their strange tribute that won’t change.

“Robin?” Cain’s voice sound clearly. He hadn’t even realized the argument had been winding down.

Anger flashes across mother’s face. “Damian I won’t ask again.”

“Talia,” Todd’s voice sound almost right behind her. His tone silky and far to calm. “Fancy meeting you here.” Damian should wonder why Todd isn’t surprised that she’s well, but he can’t with the conflict inside him.

“Jason,” mother’s all smiles again. If ones of a sort Damian’s never seen before. She turns to face Todd and Damian finds himself moving as well, setting himself up as the point of their triangle. “You could come with us too, there’s still much improvement that can be made in your training,” her voice is silky also, but again there’s an undercurrent Damian can’t quite pinpoint.

Todd however seems to have no such trouble. “Thanks,” dry amusement fills his voice now. “But I already have a girlfriend Talia, also I’m pretty sure I’m over the whole killing thing. Don’t need to make my afterlife worse than it already was.” His grin is sharp. “Well alright, there might be one exception, but other than that I’m good.”

Mother stiffens. “Then at least let me take Damian back with me. He’ll do better under my care.” Damian stiffens as well, being talked about so.

“It’s his choice Talia,” Todd shrugs. “I’m not gonna stop him if he wants to go with you, but he’s actually gotta say it first.” Todd turns to him. “So, what’cha gonna do kiddo?”

There is a strange relief in being _asked_ instead of told, that whatever his decision Todd will abide by it, even if he might not like it. Of course that also means that Damian has to _decide_ for himself what to do. It would be easy just to listen to mother as he always has. Except he’s seen so much more than perhaps mother ever planned for him to see. He knows his father isn’t a perfect man, that he’s still alive somewhere, that the people father chose to surround himself with are perhaps just as imperfect as he’d been. Yet they'd all gained father's attention and care in a way Damian wants.

He’s seen enough of Gotham, experienced enough as Robin, to wonder if the League would even work here as it has everywhere else. Father, it seemed, had always espoused justice, however imperfect it might work in reality. That, that felt _right_ though, for all that it sometimes appeared a Sisyphean task in Gotham alone. One could spend a lifetime at it and barely make an inch, yet even so there was satisfaction in the work. 

“I…” Cool familiarity and sharp glory as Damian al Ghul? Or this strange path filled with cats and family who were far too annoying and the chance to one day see his father in the flesh as Damian Wayne?

Damian takes a deep breath. “I wish to stay here mother. But...I would not say no to you visiting.”

Again that smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Of course Damian.” She steps closer to him and he can see Todd watching warily. Crouching down again she kisses him on the forehead. “I will be in contact. And should you need me you only need call.” He feels her slip something into his pocket.

She stands and walks away, not even acknowledging Todd.

Todd’s gauntlet feels warm and heavy when it lands on his shoulder. “Come on kiddo, let’s go home.”

Home, yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over halfway done with this series y'all! Part four (which is the damn sex scene I've been trying to put in this damn story from the beginning) should be out next week. Then it'll be the fifth and final part (finally).


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